Listen With Your Heart
by Tracy Diane Miller
Summary: This story is s set in Season 1. Gary's role as a reluctant hero introduces him to a very special little boy named Alex.
1. Default Chapter

Listen With Your Heart  
  
Summary: This story is s set in Season 1, a few weeks after Gary's divorce from Marcia and the advent of his receiving the paper. He's dealing with all these life changes when his role as a reluctant hero introduces him to a very special little boy named Alex. Gary learns a great deal from Alex about how to appreciate the blessings of each day.  
  
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whoever created them. All other characters are my own creation. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.  
  
I dedicate this story to Suzanne, a guiding light who has helped me find my way out of a very dark tunnel. She has been a great online friend and has become my Creative Muse. This story idea is hers, but I thank her for allowing me the honor and privilege of writing this story and for entrusting me to create these new characters and to give them a voice.  
  
And I dedicate this story to Alex, a special little boy who has taught, and no doubt will continue to teach, people how to listen with their hearts.  
  
  
  
Author: Tracy Diane Miller  
  
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com  
  
  
  
Listen With Your Heart  
  
Chapter One  
  
The key turned in the lock and the door opened. Soon, he entered the room. He stood silently for a moment, a pregnant pause, as he surveyed his surroundings. In its heyday, the Blackstone Hotel had been an architectural marvel. What stories these walls must hold. Maybe this very room had been the temporary abode of a man who negotiated a significant business deal, a power mogul who performed a psychological waltz with his opponent, studying the eyes of the competition before silently jotting down a substantial sum on a cocktail napkin all the while not losing interest in the brandy he held tightly in his hand as if it were the Holy Grail.  
  
Or, maybe this room was the love nest of a couple carrying on an illicit affair away from prying eyes like a modern day Romeo and Juliet. How often had these very walls exploded with unbridled passion? He wondered.  
  
The Blackstone. The Blackstone may have been a jewel in Chicago's past. Yet, those glory days seemed over. Chuck called it a dump. But for the last few weeks, he called it home.  
  
It wasn't supposed to be this way.  
  
Sighing, Gary proceeded to the bed and plopped down, defeated. Chuck meant well when he had invited three of their fraternity brothers for "a guy's night out."  
  
"Come on, buddy. It'll be great. Like old times. Just the guys. Drinking. Carrying on. Male bonding at its finest. It'll cheer you up." Chuck argued. "How long are you going to wallow in self-pity?" Chuck added, his last comment reeking of insensitivity almost like some experiment in tough love to jolt Gary back to the land of the living.  
  
It didn't work.  
  
So, while the guys drank from their beers, Gary drank from self-pity.  
  
Bob, the loudest and most vulgar of the fraternity brothers, the guy who women on campus viewed as an obnoxious parasite, was now a successful investment banker, happily married for four years, and expecting his first child. In college, Bob was the guy who had laughed at commitment. And like Chuck, Bob had adopted the attitude that women were akin to a buffet and that it was a guy's duty to sample every dish before getting saddled down with something he didn't want. Bob had been voted most unlikely to succeed.  
  
But he, Gary Hobson, was the guy in college who valued commitment. He and his high school sweetheart, Genie Berlatski, had left Indiana to attend the University of Chicago together. They were the golden couple on campus. Gary was also a serious college student. While his comrades were out partying, Gary was the one burning the midnight oil at the library. Everyone assumed that he and Genie would marry, have a house with a picket fence, 2.5 children, and a dog. He was expected to have the American fairy tale of domesticity. Instead, the fairy tale ended when Genie dumped him.  
  
Shortly before his college graduation, Gary met Marcia Roberts. Marcia was an ambitious political science major with her sights set on law school. She was also an unlikely choice for the shy Indiana native. Despite his shyness, Gary was very personable and had an aura about him that welcomed people. Marcia, however, was aloof. Chuck joked that Marcia carried a huge ego on her small frame and treated most people as if she was a queen and they were her unworthy subjects. But Gary saw something different when he looked at Marcia. He saw vulnerability and a desire for acceptance and understanding. Marcia had a strained relationship with her father and craved approval from the detached man that wasn't forthcoming.  
  
Gary and Marcia dated for a year before they were married. The newlyweds seemed happy but an undercurrent of trouble was percolating. Marcia was ambitious and equated happiness with financial success. On the other hand, Gary saw working as a means of earning a living. He had no aspirations at being a rich man, at least not financially. Wealth to him meant a wife and kids. He constantly brought up the topic of having a baby. Marcia stalled. She wanted to go to law school so he became a stockbroker to finance her dream. He hated his job. Well, at least he had Marcia and someday soon, they would start their family.  
  
Or so he thought.  
  
He would never forget that fateful day of his anniversary when he returned home from work to a shattered dream. Marcia had changed the locks and unceremoniously tossed his suitcase out of the window. She refused to take his phone calls. Shortly thereafter, she served him with divorce papers. In a sterile law office devoid of human emotion, he was pronounced a divorced man. It has been two weeks, ten hours, and six minutes since his divorce and he wondered if the pain would ever go away.  
  
Tonight, as he watched his friends laugh and reminisce about old times, he sat there silently. He felt like he had a big, brazen, mocking red "F" on his chest, the scarlet letter for failure. He had failed at his marriage and his job. His meal of self-pity got caught on the lump in his throat.  
  
And dealing the past few weeks with his secret life as a super hero hadn't been easy either. He still wondered where the paper came from and why he had been selected every morning to receive a futuristic newspaper delivered by a cat and charged with the responsibility of preventing disasters. Marissa called it a miracle, but he wasn't so sure.  
  
There had been no training in being a hero. Yet, the last few weeks he had been able to prevent a bank robbery, save a little girl from dying because of hospital negligence, and delivered twins in an elevator while the whole city was gripped by power failure. He had also prevented an assortment of minor disasters.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Gary rose from the bed and headed for the shower.  
  
Little did he know, but tomorrow fate had some surprises in store for him. It would be the first journey on the road from self-pity to learning how to listen with his heart.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
"Good morning, Chicago. It's six thirty and..." An overly cheery female  
  
voice crooned.  
  
Gary's hand slammed down hard on the offending radio. That voice was much  
  
too cheery for this early in the morning, he thought to himself.  
  
"Meow." Thump.  
  
And so began another day of heroics.  
  
Gary pulled back the bed covers, rose from the bed, and proceeded to the  
  
door. He was never an early person and these wake up calls were going to  
  
take some getting used to. He opened the door to find the cat sitting on  
  
the paper. The feline offered another "meow" before scurrying into the room.  
  
Gary glanced at the cat briefly before he bent over, picked up the paper,  
  
and closed the door. He walked into the room all the while turning the  
  
pages of the paper. A story on page seven and a photo of the victim  
  
captured his attention. He read the story out loud. "Boy Injured in  
  
Supermarket. Shortly before 7:30 a.m. yesterday, a boy was injured in an all  
  
night supermarket on Lake Shore Drive when a shelf containing canned goods  
  
toppled over. The boy, Alex Miller, 5, was in the store with his mother  
  
Candace, when the mishap occurred. He was taken to Columbia General  
  
Hospital. An investigation is ongoing."  
  
"Oh Boy." Gary mumbled to himself.  
  
Gary quickly showered, dressed, and headed out the door. He encountered  
  
Boswell in the hallway as he proceeded towards the elevator.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Hobson."  
  
"Good morning, Boswell."  
  
"Mr. Hobson, your wife stopped by last night. I realized that you were out  
  
so I asked her if she wanted to leave a message. She said that she would be  
  
coming by this afternoon and that she needed to speak with you."  
  
Boswell's words stopped Gary in his tracks. That scarlet letter "F" burned  
  
at Gary's chest like some persistent and never ending heart burn.  
  
Correction: Heartache. Why was Marcia coming by? Did she want him to take  
  
her out on a date? He questioned. He felt the ire rising up inside him  
  
like a sleeping volcano awakened. He had loved her. He had loved her very  
  
much, but that wasn't enough for Marcia. Nothing he did was ever enough for  
  
her. Then she threw him out of the house and divorced him. Why was she  
  
still hanging around? What kind of game was she playing?  
  
"Mr. Hobson?" Boswell said upon noticing Gary's tortured expression.  
  
"If she comes by again, Boswell, tell her I'm not around and you have no  
  
idea when I'll be back." Gary said sharply. He walked towards the elevator  
  
and pressed the button. The quick ring signaled the arrival of the  
  
elevator. Gary entered the elevator, the displeasure over Boswell's  
  
announcement etched on his face.  
  
Hailing a cab this morning proved a lesson in futility. Gary had spent  
  
nearly ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to catch a cab. His pleas of "Taxi"  
  
were met by a few cabs buzzing quickly by him without stopping. And he  
  
could have sworn that the last three cabs were empty even though they failed  
  
to stop. Frustrated, Gary began running briskly down the street towards  
  
Lake Shore Drive.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Beautiful, inquisitive blue eyes, as magnificent as sapphires, studied the  
  
cans on the shelf. So many different sizes. And letters. And colors.  
  
Alex's gaze was fixated on all those cans with their rainbow of colors. He  
  
seemed mesmerized by them, almost in a trance, as his eyes focused intently  
  
at the sight before him, his face an expression of wonderment.  
  
Candace, Alex's mother, was in the aisle perusing her grocery list. She  
  
kept a watchful eye over her son. She smiled. It wasn't always easy taking  
  
Alex out, especially around crowds. She knew that crowds upset him, that  
  
strangers touching him upset Alex. Alex was such a special child, so warm  
  
and loving. But his personality, something that she never envisioned when  
  
she was pregnant, provided its own challenges. And strangers could be so  
  
cold and heartless, even towards a child. Candace choked back the tears  
  
recalling the attitude and scathing words of some people. "You have such a  
  
beautiful child. But why does he act like that? Does he have some kind of  
  
disorder?" One woman had asked. Candace tried to dismiss the woman's  
  
words and other similar words she had heard over the years. She tried  
  
telling herself that ignorance often breeds stupidity. But those people who  
  
acted like Alex had leprosy ignited her anger. Like a mother lion  
  
protecting her cub, Candace often sprung into action. No one was going to  
  
upset or hurt her child.  
  
Candace turned her back for a brief moment to remove a jar of spaghetti  
  
sauce off of the shelf.  
  
Alex wanted a closer look. So many different sizes. And letters. And  
  
colors. He reached for a can.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Gary had run several blocks before he was finally able to catch a cab.  
  
Consequently, he was drenched in sweat and out of breath by the time he  
  
arrived at the supermarket on Lake Shore Drive.  
  
Gary dashed into the store. He ran into the produce section. He spied a  
  
clerk using a price gun labeling items. "Ex-Exc-Excuse me." He sputtered  
  
out of breath. "Can-can you tell me where your canned goods are?"  
  
The young woman eyed the out of breath customer. "Aisle 4, that's four  
  
aisles over, on your left."  
  
"Thank you." He said before dashing towards Aisle 4 to prevent disaster.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Alex held a can in his hand. He stared at the object intently.  
  
Gary reached Aisle 4 to see Alex holding the can. He quickly pulled Alex to  
  
safety just as the shelf came crashing down.  
  
"Are you okay?" Gary asked the little boy.  
  
But Alex snatched away from the stranger's touch and began crying  
  
hysterically. "Bad man. Bad man." Alex managed to say between sobs,  
  
pointing at Gary.  
  
Candace rushed over to her son. Gary stood there silently, shaken by Alex's  
  
words.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Mud green stared in shock into the sapphire eyes of the little boy, the  
  
child's innocent eyes portraying a mixture of fear and bewilderment. Not  
  
surprising that the hero's eyes also conveyed the same emotions.  
  
"It's okay, honey. Everything's okay." Candace comforted Alex as she held  
  
him tightly. Her soothing words were coupled with her gentle strokes of her  
  
son's hair.  
  
"Bad man." Alex repeated, as he rested his head on his mother's shoulder.  
  
The drama in Aisle 4 produced a hornet of customers curious to find out what  
  
had occurred. Seeing that Alex was upset and hearing the child's protests  
  
about the "bad man", the customers looked at Gary as if he were a child  
  
molester  
  
Gary stood there paralyzed. He had saved the little boy from injury and  
  
instead of being able to quietly slip away, he had somehow upset the child  
  
and unintentionally caused a scene.  
  
A customer pulled out his cell phone. "Lady, I'll call the cops." He told  
  
Candace.  
  
Oh Boy.  
  
If there were a learning curve to all this hero stuff, Gary felt at this  
  
moment that he was failing miserably. Visions of his first save,  
  
preventing that bank robbery, swirled in his mind. Sure, he had been able  
  
to avert disaster and had even lent his ear in talking and listening to  
  
Frank Price while on that rooftop. But when he and Frank emerged from the  
  
bank, he was the one who the police slapped those cold, hard handcuffs on,  
  
and hauled into the station for questioning. No formal charges were filed,  
  
but dealing with Detective Tagliotti wasn't an experience that he wanted to  
  
repeat.  
  
Would he have to brace himself for another arrest now?  
  
Perhaps the caretakers of the paper had some perverse sense of humor: Save a  
  
life, go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200!  
  
The sound of Candace's voice shook Gary from his musings.  
  
"No, there's no need to call the police. Everything is okay." Candace  
  
replied to the customer. Candace eyes locked with Gary's eyes, silently  
  
communicating gratitude.  
  
Soon, the excitement fizzled and the crowd of customers left Aisle 4 to  
  
continue with their shopping. A few people shot Gary dirty looks as they  
  
departed.  
  
Alex was calm now with only his tear stained face a testament to his earlier  
  
upset. Candace rose from the floor and lifted Alex into her arms. She  
  
turned to Gary. "Thank you."  
  
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset him. I was just trying to help."  
  
Gary said nervously.  
  
"No. It wasn't you. Alex...Alex just gets a bit...overwhelmed sometimes."  
  
Candace said cryptically. However, her words opened the floodgates to  
  
tears.  
  
Gary approached the young mother, concerned etched on his face. "Are you  
  
okay?" He whispered. He wasn't really sure what to say, but Alex's tears  
  
and now hers stabbed at his chest.  
  
"I'm-I'm okay. I'm fine." Candace reassured, choking back her tears.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Well, I am sorry that I did anything to overwhelm Alex. I didn't mean to  
  
upset him. Anyway, I should be going." Gary said as he started to walk  
  
away.  
  
"Excuse me." Candace called out to him. Gary turned back around.  
  
"I didn't catch your name." Candace realized.  
  
"It's Gary. Gary Hobson."  
  
"I'm Candace Miller. Gary, this is going to sound strange and I'd  
  
understand if you'd say no, but I was hoping that you'd let me buy you a cup  
  
of coffee. I would like to tell you about Alex."  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The aroma of bacon and eggs, freshly brewed coffee, pancakes, fresh fruit, French toast, and bagels mingled and permeated the air of the diner on Lake Shore Drive. A man in a three piece suit performing the juggling act of the highly pressured drank coffee, negotiated a business deal over a cell phone, jotted down notes on a legal pad, and ate his breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage with the perfect precision of a figure skater landing a quad in Olympic competition. The chatter of two college students filtered the room, too; the young women were engaged in an animated conversation ranging from pledging a sorority to last week's Chemistry quiz to the star hunk on the football team all the while drinking from their cafe mochas and nibbling on their toasted bagels with creamed cheese.  
  
Gary, Candace, and Alex occupied a back booth. Alex sat next to his mother. The youngster was now quiet, concentrating intently on his Peter Pan coloring book. He pulled out a purple crayon from the box seemingly studying it for a moment before committing the color to the page. Purple was such a magical color. Alex showed his artistry to his mother. Candace smiled, then praised him profusely. Her reward were several sticky, jelly induced kisses that he peppered on her cheek. Alex loved jelly donuts and while Candace had been meticulous about preparing him a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, hot cereal (Cream-of-Wheat, his favorite), and toast before they left this morning for the supermarket, she allowed him the jelly donut as a special treat.  
  
Gary sat opposite the Millers. Witnessing the loving exchange between mother and son, Gary could tell that they had a very close relationship.  
  
His cup of black coffee remained untouched.  
  
"I want to thank you again for pulling Alex to safety when that shelf toppled. And I'm sorry that your kindness caused you embarrassment. I suppose that customer meant well, but I wish that he would have minded his own business instead of saying that he was going to call the police." Candace said.  
  
A slight blush crept on Gary's face. "Yeah, I do, too. But I'm glad that you realized that I never meant Alex any harm."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"You said in the supermarket that sometimes Alex gets overwhelmed. What did you mean by that?" Gary probed.  
  
Candace stared into the gentle mud green eyes of the hero. Even though the man seated at the table was a stranger, Candace felt as if Fate had enabled her to meet a kindred spirit. Those eyes of his spoke of a pure and unselfish heart; yet, his eyes were also reservoirs holding great pain, whether it was the pain of misunderstanding or rejection, she couldn't tell. But it was a pain that she sadly knew all too well.  
  
And an inexplicable trust had been cemented with this man. She wanted to tell him about Alex, she wanted him to know the special little boy that she had been blessed to call her son.  
  
Candace took a deep breath before speaking. "Alex is such an affectionate, loving little boy." She began, momentarily gazing at her son. Alex, too, stopped his task for a moment, smiled at his mother, then immersed himself once again in the world of Peter Pan.  
  
"There are so many days when people say and do the most stupid, the most frustrating things and I just want to scream, but I'm afraid that once I start screaming, I'll never stop. But then Alex will smile at me, kiss me, and tell me that 'happy kisses make bad stuff go away'. And it's true. I can handle anything, anything, because Alex reminds me everyday how fragile yet wonderful life is and how spending any time obsessing over other people's issues or prejudices is time that I'm wasting." Candace paused briefly before continuing. "Gary, Alex has Asperger's Syndrome. It's a mild form of autism. Alex's personality makes it difficult for him to receive too many stimuli all at once. It's like his system becomes overwhelmed. That's when he'll get really upset. When that shelf collapsed, the cans fell, and you rushed towards him, that was too much happening all at once."  
  
Candace stopped speaking for a moment to allow Gary to soak in what she had just told him. She studied his face, trying to gage his reaction. On those occasions when she shared this information about Alex with other people, their reactions ranged from pity to disgust, two reactions that angered her more than she had ever believed possible. But she didn't see either of these reactions on Gary's face. What she saw instead were pleading eyes seeking to know more.  
  
"It's not easy for most people to hear this." Candace continued. "And when the psychologist confirmed that Alex had AS, I was numb. I guess that I was even in denial. Every parent wants the perfect child, not just physically perfect, but developmentally perfect as well. Being told that your child isn't perfect is like having a truck barreling down the street without warning and hitting you. You don't expect it and nothing can prepare you for it. Then, after you get over the numbness and regain feeling, you start with the blame. You blame yourself. You think, irrationally, that maybe you did something to cause it. I remember thinking that I drank too many Cokes before I found out that I was pregnant with Alex and that must have affected him. Silly, huh? Then, you blame God. You really blame God. You have this angry conversation with God wondering why He chose your child as the one to carry this burden. But after the numbness is over, after the blame is over, you feel this strange calm. It's eerie, really. Because you realize that as a parent, nothing, nothing is more important than doing everything you can to give your child a healthy, happy, and stable life. That's what every parent wants for her child. You discover that you have all this love you never knew you were capable of having for this little person you helped create and that you also have this strength and determination. I would lay down my life for Alex without question."  
  
"What about Alex's father?" Gary asked.  
  
"Alan...he...Alan left. We've been divorced for almost six months now." Candace revealed, a small tear in her eye. "I'm originally from Hagerstown, that's a suburb in Maryland. Alan and I were high school sweethearts. We got married right after our high school graduation and moved here to Chicago to attend college. Alan was such a gifted musician. He could have gone to Julliard, God knows they wanted him. But he was also the brightest guy you'd ever met. He loved math. He ended up with a full academic scholarship at the University of Chicago. I wanted to be a nurse. But we also wanted to start our family right away. The plan was for Alan to finish college then go on to graduate school, a Ph.D in math. I would be a full- time, stay-at-home Mom, then when our child was in school, I would go back to school and complete my degree. I did complete two years of college because it took two years before I became pregnant. You should have seen Alan when I told him that I was going to have a baby. He acted like he was the only man in the world to ever learn that he was going to be a father. He wanted to know right away whether we were having a boy or a girl. When the doctor confirmed that we were having a son, Alan acted like he'd hit the lottery. He began making all these plans. He was going to take his son fishing and camping and teach him how to play baseball and football. I had a pretty difficult pregnancy. My blood pressure became elevated several times over the nine months. When I went into labor, the doctor thought that I would need an emergency C-section, but that didn't happen. I delivered Alex naturally even though it was a breech birth. Alex was such a happy baby. And his development seemed normal. He didn't walk until he was sixteen months, but I wasn't upset about that because a girlfriend of mine told me that her daughter didn't walk until she was eighteen months. However, when Alex was three and a half, we realized that there might be something wrong. His speech pattern wasn't what you'd expect of a three and a half year old. And he would fixate on things. I remember that he fixated on windmills. If he saw a picture of a windmill in a book or a model of a windmill in a store or even once when we took a road trip and he saw windmills, he would focus on them so intently. My sister Janet is a psychologist and she was the first person who suggested that Alex might be autistic. Alan and I saw another psychologist who did a battery of tests that confirmed that Alex had AS. Alan had such a difficult time handling the news. In that one instant, his whole image of having the perfect child had been shattered. He was in denial for a very long time. He acted like if we didn't talk about it, that it would just disappear. But I knew that it wouldn't disappear that we had to talk about it and do whatever we could to help Alex. And instead of Alex's situation bringing us closer together, it pushed us apart. Alan and I fought constantly. Last year, we agreed to a trial separation and a short while later, Alan told me that he wanted a divorce. He moved to New York. Funny thing is, he ended up going to Julliard."  
  
"He just left his wife and son? How could he do that?" Gary asked, shocked. He tried to mask the judgment he felt seeping in his voice, tried telling himself that he had no right to judge a man he didn't know, but he couldn't. Here was a man who had been blessed with a beautiful wife and son who loved him and he deserted them because he couldn't handle the pressure of having a son who didn't live up to some societal ideal.  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Alan loves Alex. I know that. He just didn't know how to be the kind of father Alex needs and deserves." Candace answered simply.  
  
Gary glanced at the beautiful little boy with the expressive sapphire eyes. Alex looked up from his coloring book and those sapphire eyes met Gary's mud green eyes. The child who had previously seen a "bad man" in the supermarket no longer seemed afraid of the stranger with whom his mother was comfortably engaged in conversation.  
  
Gary smiled at Alex. Alex returned the smile with one of those wonderfully innocent, wonderfully sincere smiles of a child that could melt hearts.  
  
Then Gary said something that he never expected to say. "I have to go now to a....ah....a very important appointment. But I would like to see you and Alex again, I mean, if you want. Maybe I could take you to Navy Pier or something." Gary offered tentatively.  
  
It was a mother's turn to smile, her smile radiating the room.  
  
"We'd like that. Wouldn't we Alex?"  
  
Alex confirmed with a nod.  
  
"Good. I'm staying at the Blackstone Hotel." Gary rose from his seat and proceeded to where Candace was sitting. "Thank you for the coffee and for telling me about Alex." He said sincerely.  
  
She smiled again. "Thank you for listening."  
  
"And it's good to know you, Buddy." Gary said to Alex.  
  
Alex looked up from his coloring book. "My name is not Buddy. It's Alex."  
  
Gary looked at Candace, a puzzled expression on his face.  
  
"It's part of AS." She said simply.  
  
Gary nodded. There was another story there, but it would have to wait until another day.  
  
Alex rose from his seat and stood directly in front of Gary. He gestured for Gary to pick him up. Gary obliged. Without warning, Alex wrapped his arms around Gary in a warm embrace before planting several kisses on Gary's cheek. Those kisses, those sweet jelly flavored kisses, were the most wonderful surprise for the hero.  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Late afternoon came with a vengeance. The day had sped by uneventfully offering Gary easy saves requiring minimal concentration. It was a good thing, too, because he was having a difficult time concentrating on the business of heroics. All his mind seemed to focus on was a mother's revelations and a child's beautiful and expressive sapphire eyes.  
  
He tried to unscramble his jumbled thoughts. Asperger's Syndrome. He briefly wondered whether he was opening a Pandora's box with his acute interest in wanting to know more about Asperger's Syndrome and how it affected Alex's life. But he dismissed this thought. He had never heard of Asperger's Syndrome before today and there was nothing wrong with his curiosity and interest being awakened. Sure, he had heard of autism from television and newspaper articles. And he remembered once in high school when a history class discussion on The Battle of Waterloo turned into a discussion of autism. Melissa, the young female student providing her insights on Napoleon, was autistic. Her comments produced snickers from the back of the room. But Melissa was extremely confident and defended her position. Then, she charged her critics with ignorance and insensitivity because she was autistic. A hush fell over the classroom. Some students at Hickory Township High School had considered Melissa "different" but hadn't taken the time to get to know her before rendering judgment. In their closed mindedness, Melissa represented a "disorder"; she was someone to be misunderstood and maligned. It was easier to condemn than to embrace.  
  
Despite his lack of knowledge on Asperger's Syndrome, Gary's heart sank envisioning the cruelties that Alex would likely face because of other people's ignorance or fears. Like Melissa, Alex would be misunderstood and maligned, too, by a society all too willing to hurt rather than help. There had to be something that he could do.  
  
Maybe Marissa was right when she told him that the paper was a miracle, that it came to him for a reason, and that he needed to do whatever he could. Maybe the paper had a more profound, yet undisclosed, reason for bringing him into the life of this fatherless boy.  
  
And that's another thing that nagged at Gary's gut. How could a father desert his child just because the boy fell short of some idiotic notion of perfection? Gary could tell from Candace's words that she still loved her ex-husband. One couldn't turn off such a powerful emotion like love as if it were a leaky faucet dripping incessantly and grating on a fragile psyche. The State of Illinois may have untied his own matrimonial bonds, but that didn't mean that he still didn't feel raw inside or lie awake nights torturing himself, pondering "what ifs", trying to pinpoint exactly when his marriage began to crumble. He couldn't even fathom dealing with the pain of divorce while having to ensure the emotional well being of a child. Candace was an incredible mother. She was an incredible woman.  
  
But that didn't mean that there wasn't something he could do to help her and Alex. Gary decided that he would talk to Marissa first. He knew that Marissa was interested in psychology; in fact, she had even talked about going back to school to complete her degree in psychology. Perhaps Marissa would have some ideas how he could help Alex. Gary also decided to do his own research about Asperger's Syndrome. He wanted to learn all that he could. Candace hadn't mentioned it, but Gary wondered whether she had investigated special schools for Alex. Perhaps he could help with that, too.  
  
Gary smiled as he recalled Alex's wonderfully sincere hug and kisses in that diner. Holding Alex, feeling Alex's little heart beating rapidly against his own chest, had been a special moment. Gary had a hard time articulating how he felt at that moment, but knew that some powerful emotions had been stirred within him. He was looking forward to spending time with Alex and Candace, taking them to Navy Pier, or maybe the zoo. Surely the paper would given him a respite from heroics to enjoy time with mother and son.  
  
Be careful, Hobson. You're not this boy's father. The meddlesome inner voice warned.  
  
Gary tried ignoring his lecturing subconscious. He could already anticipate a similar lecture from Chuck once he told his friend about Alex.  
  
Gary entered The Blackstone, his preoccupation with his thoughts evident as he proceeded towards the elevator as if he were in a daze.  
  
"Gary." The familiar female voice said.  
  
Gary turned around and saw the petite brunette smartly dressed in a red suit, her beauty mole illuminated by the artificial light of the hotel lobby.  
  
"Marcia." He whispered. He felt numb. He shouldn't have been, nor should he have been shocked by his ex-wife appearance. Boswell had informed him early this morning that Marcia would be stopping by late afternoon. But that didn't mean that seeing her still didn't hurt.  
  
She approached him, a smile painted on her face. "I was hoping that I would see you today. There's something important I want to talk to you about."  
  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
For a moment, his mud green eyes studied the woman before him as if she were the world's greatest enigma, a dangerous puzzle that needed to be unraveled. He had loved her so much, had shared such an intimacy with her, not just the physical intimacy of their bodies, but he thought a spiritual intimacy of their souls through the expression of their hopes and dreams. He thought that he understood her, that he knew her better than anyone else. He thought that their love would be perpetuated through the seed of a new life. He thought that their futures were forever linked until death parted them.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
Looking at her now, he felt like he was looking into the eyes of a stranger, that he had made love to a stranger all those years, that he had exposed his inner core to a stranger.  
  
She smiled again, but her smile was more tentative this time. "How have you been?" She asked awkwardly.  
  
He wanted to say something sarcastic, to make her feel uncomfortable, maybe hurt her, like she had hurt him, but he couldn't. Instead, he settled with, "I've been okay."  
  
"That's good. I mean, I'm glad. I've been worried about you. That day in the lawyer's office..."  
  
"After you divorced me." He interrupted, the bile rising from his stomach and punctuating his words.  
  
She hesitated briefly, this time it was she who studied him. His jaw was clenched and his usually gentle eyes danced around fitfully. This conversation wasn't going to be easy, she realized, but she had to try anyway.  
  
"Yes. Anyway, we didn't get a chance to talk afterwards." She continued.  
  
"Funny, I thought that the talking was supposed to take place before a divorce not after." He said, this time unable to quell the sarcasm.  
  
A brief, yet uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Why are you here, Marcia? What is this about?"  
  
She moved closer towards him. He could smell her perfume; it used to be his favorite of all the scents that she wore. Only now, the odor nauseated him, poisoned the air that he was breathing, strangled him.  
  
"I know that the last few weeks haven't been easy for you. I know that it has been a time of adjustment, with you living here and no longer working at the brokerage house. I just want to help you, to make things easier for you." She said. She set her briefcase down on the floor and handed him an envelope. "Here. This is for you."  
  
He stalled momentarily before taking the envelope from her hand, his skin brushing against hers. He opened the envelope and removed the item. His features contorted in anger.  
  
"What is this?!" He demanded, his raised voice attracting the attention of people passing by in the lobby.  
  
His hostile tone sent shivers through her body, but she remained undaunted. "It's a check for your portion from the sale of the house. I wanted to bring it over myself. I didn't want to go through lawyers." She revealed.  
  
He held the check as if it were some tainted reward for an indecent proposal, as if by taking the money he was somehow prostituting himself.  
  
"I don't want this!" He spewed, waving the check in the air.  
  
"You have a right to that money. We got a good price for the sale of the house and it wouldn't be fair of me to keep all of this when that house was as much yours as it was mine. I don't know what your plans are, Gary, whether or not you've found another job, but this money will make things easier for you while you're considering your options. Please take it."  
  
He felt numb, as if he were trapped in vertigo, that the emotional uncertainty, the dizziness, would be never-ending. And the memories that threatened his emotional stability at this moment by assaulting his mind, were powerful traitors. He recalled the day that they found that house. It was love at first sight for both of them. They had so many plans for that house. He remembered the day they were painting their bedroom; well, it was he who was doing all the actual painting, she was enjoying painting smiley faces on his hand. Henri Matisse she was not, but with each stroke of the brush she giggled happily. God, they were so young, so in love. The whole world didn't matter in those days, just the two of them, just their love. He remembered the day they moved into that house. The movers lost most of their furniture. They made do. He spread a blanket onto the bedroom floor and they sprawled across the blanket. Scented candles permeated the room. Then they made love, their passion stopping time.  
  
"Gary?" She said upon noticing his faraway expression.  
  
"I don't want this money." He repeated adamantly. He put the check back into the envelope and handed it to her.  
  
She appeared crestfallen. "I was hoping that we could be friends." She said sadly.  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, the attractive young woman and her dark haired son with sapphire eyes entered the lobby. The little boy immediately ran to Gary.  
  
Gary's face lit up as bright as a Christmas tree. He hoisted Alex into his arms. Once again, Alex held him tightly and planted kisses on Gary's cheek.  
  
Marcia stood by silently. But she wondered whom this little boy was, this child who bore more than a passing resemblance to her ex-husband.  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Those mud green eyes of his could never lie.  
  
She knew that. Even when words remained unspoken or secrets guarded, his eyes always revealed the truth. His eyes confessed now. But that wasn't what she wanted. She needed for that confession to come from his lips. Despite how much she knew it would hurt her, she needed to hear the truth from him now.  
  
His eyes locked with hers. Perhaps sensing the tension in his body, the child in his arms held him tightly, seemingly afraid to let him go. He smiled, then kissed the boy's forehead. He looked at her again. He took a deep breath. Then, the anticipated (and dreaded) confession poured from his lips.  
  
"I didn't plan for you to find out this way." He began. He glanced at the child's mother, who flashed him a smile as if she were willing him the courage to continue.  
  
"Marcia. This...This is my son." He confessed.  
  
The boy raised his head from Gary's shoulder and looked at Marcia. Those sapphire eyes shone beautifully even in the artificial light. Those eyes were so expressive, just like Gary's mud green eyes. And the boy's dark hair, just like Gary's, shimmered gloriously.  
  
She felt numb. She...the skilled litigator, the woman whose oratorical talents mesmerized others, was speechless. Only two words finally escaped from her lips and those words were insufficient to convey the turmoil stirring within her: "But...how?"  
  
He smiled mischievously. "How?" He repeated.  
  
Of course she knew "how." The "how" of this child's conception was no mystery. That was what unnerved her. And that smile of his made her even angrier. Her hand ached to slap that smile off of his face.  
  
"I don't mean how. I mean...I mean, I do mean how." She stumbled uncomfortably over her words. "How could you do this to me, Gary?!" She demanded, her voice a mixture of anger and pain.  
  
"I didn't do anything to you. We weren't married then." He said defensively.  
  
"But we were together. We were a couple." She argued.  
  
"Look, Marcia. I didn't plan for it to happen, but I don't regret it either. I love my son very much...I love his mother very much. We're going to get married. I tried to make our marriage work, Marcia, I did, but you didn't want that. You didn't want to give me children. But I thank you for giving me the divorce because now I'm finally able to have the life I've always wanted. Good bye, Marcia." He said. The child's mother draped her arms around Gary's waist. Marcia watched in tearful agony as father, mother, and son exited the Blackstone.  
  
Marcia blinked, the involuntary response awakening her from the torturous daydream and jolting her back to reality.  
  
Yet, even in reality, Marcia stood there in tortured silence observing the touching domestic scene unfolding between her ex-husband and the little boy that he cradled lovingly in his arms. She then looked at the child's mother who flashed a smile at her son and Gary.  
  
The former Mrs. Hobson, who was enjoying a meteoric rise in her profession because of her ability to mortgage her emotions in favor of her legal acumen, had a difficult time suppressing the anger and possessive instincts stirring within her. It didn't matter to Marcia that she and Gary were no longer married. What bothered her was the thought pounding in her head that she had stumbled across a skeleton in Gary's closet, a skeleton that he had managed to conceal so effectively from her all this time.  
  
Could this child be Gary's son? She wondered. The boy's resemblance to Gary was uncanny. And the child seemed so comfortable in Gary's arms, like it was a place where he belonged, like he was seeking protection of his father to shut out the cruelties of the world. The boy had to be five or six years old. She and Gary were involved then. How dare he not tell her that he had fathered a child yet, almost from the moment that they exchanged vows, pressure her incessantly to get pregnant.  
  
Maybe his fervent desire for children while they were married was his way of assuaging a guilty conscious at hiding his dirty little secret, this "love child", from her, from his wife.  
  
No. No, that just couldn't be true. She knew Gary. He wouldn't have settled for being a part-time father, to be grateful for stolen moments with his son, a clandestine phone call, a birthday or Christmas card. He would want to tell his child stories or tuck his child in bed at night. He would want to give his child a piggyback ride to the breakfast table or would eat the child's brussel sprouts at dinner time so the boy would be sure to get dessert for cleaning the food off of his plate. He would want Little League games and camping and fishing trips. He would never settle for being that cold, detached name on a check for child support payments.  
  
And he certainly wouldn't be attracted to a woman like that, Marcia thought to herself as she studied Candace once more. Gary couldn't be interested in that woman. She was so...so...ordinary. And she certainly wasn't Gary's type, Marcia told her inner voice.  
  
Despite the arguments she used to convince herself, Marcia's doubt was so powerful, a formidable betrayer that it stabbed forcefully at her chest. This little boy could very well be Gary's son, she finally admitted to herself.  
  
Candace was a very perceptive woman and that perceptiveness had been honed to perfection since Alex's birth. And after Alex was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and Candace had been confronted with the ignorance and prejudice of others, her perceptiveness was further enhanced. She knew how to read people even when they remained silent. This woman, this well- dressed brunette with her insincere carriage, was trouble. This woman, whoever she was, was someone who had caused Gary great pain.  
  
The air was thick with tension.  
  
Alex let out a yawn then rubbed his eyes. His youthful innocence made him blissfully oblivious to the silent drama between the adults.  
  
"I'm sure that we're finished, Marcia. That we have nothing else to discuss." Gary said sharply.  
  
Marcia bristled, his tone and rudeness in not introducing her further intensifying her anger. She shot him then Candace an icy glare.  
  
"Yes, Gary. We're finished...for now. But you're wrong, we have plenty to discuss. You will be hearing from me." She warned.  
  
With one final glare at him, Candace, and Alex, Marcia turned and stalked out of The Blackstone, foolishly convincing herself that her exit was triumphant.  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
  
  
A steady symphony of continuous yawns soon became a final curtain call as Alex surrendered to the invitation of the Sandman and fell into a deep slumber. Gary handed Candace the keys to his room as he carried Alex. She opened the door and waited in reverent silence as Gary proceeded to the bed and gently placed Alex down. He carefully tucked the child under the covers before walking over to where Candace was standing.  
  
  
  
"He's going to be out for awhile." Gary observed. "Would you like anything? Coffee?"  
  
"No, thanks. I'm fine." Candace replied. "You know, you're so good with Alex. I just want to thank you."  
  
"There's no need to thank me."  
  
"Yes, there is. Remember when I told you that Alex is an affectionate little boy? That's with me. It isn't always easy for him to open up to strangers. Asperger's Syndrome affects his socialization and language skills so sometimes it's difficult for him to express his emotions around others. I know that he's too young to understand what happened with Alan, but he does realize that his father isn't around anymore. But Alex has taken to you. All the way over here, he talked excitedly about going to Navy Pier. I've never seen him that excited before."  
  
Gary glanced over at Alex sleeping sounding in the bed. He smiled. "Well, you have a great kid there."  
  
Candace returned his smile.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Candace was uncertain about how to broach the subject so she decided to just lay all of the cards out on the table. "You know, I've always been very talkative, ever since I was a little girl. It's a bad habit I suppose. But I've also been told that I'm a great listener."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. I know that we don't know each other very well, but I felt comfortable telling you about Alex this morning. I certainly never imagined that I would want to share such personal details of my life with you. But it felt good, almost like a much needed release. I guess that I've held on to a lot of demons way too long. Sometimes you just have to let go of the demons, of the pain, so you can move on." Candace said.  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Gary, if I'm way out of line here, just tell me it's none of my business. I won't be offended. But...but I sensed a lot tension downstairs between you and that woman. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that she wasn't very happy with you."  
  
"Marcia hasn't been very happy with me for a very long time." Gary said forlornly.  
  
"I want you to know that if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. And to help, if I can." Candace reassured.  
  
"Thank you." Gary whispered.  
  
He hesitated briefly before continuing. "Candace, Marcia is...she was...my wife." He revealed. He looked down at his hand before nervously twisting the gold band on his finger. Then, his mud green eyes met Candace's eyes.  
  
"We've been divorced for a little over two weeks now. Funny thing is, I never saw it coming. I must be the stupidest guy alive. Sure, we had little arguments, but I thought that our marriage was strong. I thought that I could make her happy. I loved her so much and I tried very hard to make her happy, but I guess that wasn't enough. And it's so...does it ever get easier? Does it ever stop hurting so much?"  
  
Candace glanced at her own wedding ring. "I think that it does, that it will, but that it just takes time. But every day you take small steps. I mentioned to you that my sister Janet is a psychologist. Well, she says that surviving a divorce is almost like mourning a death. There are stages that you go through- grief, anger, guilt, and finally acceptance. When the divorce first happens, that first night when you're alone in bed, you think that you'll never stop crying. You feel so cold, so alone and lost. It's like any hope that you had for the future just disappeared. At least when you're separated, you have this little fantasy created in your mind that your love will bring you back together. After the grief, you feel this tremendous anger at everyone and everything. If you see couples on the street or read in the paper about some romantic moment, the anger becomes so intense that you think that you'll drown in it. You can't believe that someone else would dare to be so happy when your life has fallen apart. And your friends, they try to help you snap out of it by taking you out or even fixing you up on a blind date. But you get angry with them; too, because you don't understand how they can act like putting a Band-Aid on heartbreak will heal it so quickly. But, the guilt...the guilt is the worse. You search your mind constantly for all those signs that had to be there, but that you feel that you were so stupid that you missed them. You blame yourself for not knowing that something was really wrong and knowing how to make things right."  
  
"And then you find acceptance?"  
  
"Eventually. I believe that eventually you do. It just takes a lot of time." Candace said.  
  
"So where are you? I mean, what stage are you in?" He asked.  
  
"Somewhere between anger and guilt. But having Alex helps. I can't afford to wallow in my own misery. He's so attuned to me. If I'm sad, that makes him sad and I don't want that. I want him to be happy, to feel secure even in this unstable world. Sometimes I wonder who is taking care of whom. Alex gives me such hope in everything. I look into those beautiful eyes of his and I know that everything will be okay, that nothing else matters so long as we have each other."  
  
Gary listened attentively, soaking in Candace's words.  
  
"And for the record, you aren't the stupidest guy alive. You're a kind, caring man who loved his wife. It is she who is the stupid one for not being able to see that and for throwing away that kind of love."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Candace, I-I want..." He began, struggling. "I want...I need to tell you about Marcia."  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Now that he had decided to unburden himself with Candace by sharing his pain over Marcia, Gary discovered that saying those first words out loud was going to be harder than he had imagined.  
  
Candace realized that Gary was struggling. "Gary, if you aren't ready..."  
  
"No. Time to let go of the demons, right?" He said.  
  
Candace gestured to him that she wanted to check on Alex first before continuing their conversation. He nodded his understanding. She proceeded to the bed. Alex was still sleeping soundly, curled up in a ball. However, he had twisted and turned at one point so the result was that the blanket was now off of his body, dangling haphazardly on the floor. Candace gently covered her son then kissed him on the forehead.  
  
She proceeded to where Gary was standing. "I think that I will take that coffee now." She said hoping that the time it took to prepare the coffee would help put Gary more at ease. She could see that he still looked uncertain.  
  
Gary walked into the kitchen. A short while later, the smell of freshly brewed coffee perfumed the room.  
  
"How would you like your coffee?" He asked.  
  
"Black, please." She replied.  
  
He removed two cups from the cupboard and placed the cups on the table. He poured her a cup, then one for himself before joining her at the table.  
  
She took a sip. "Good coffee." She complimented.  
  
"Thanks. Marcia used to say that I made the best coffee she ever tasted." He revealed awkwardly.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
He took a sip of his coffee. He let out a deep breath before continuing. "I met Marcia at the start of my senior year in college. We were in the library and she had accidentally dropped a book that she had been reaching for off of the shelf onto the floor. I bent over, picked up the book, and handed it to her. Then she asked me if I believed in it."  
  
"Believed in what?" Candace asked.  
  
"The title of the book, 'Utopia'. I told her that I'd like to think that there was a utopia out there somewhere. She smiled, called me a romantic, and walked away. A few weeks later, I ran into her again in the library. She called me 'Mr. Utopia' and the next thing I knew we were having this philosophical discussion. And she shot down all of my theories with her arguments." He remembered a slight smile on his face. "Somewhere during the conversation, she told me about herself. She told me that she was a political science major, but that she planned on going to law school. She seemed so passionate about her career aspirations, but I saw a lot of sadness in her eyes, too. She confessed that her father was very excited that she wanted to become a lawyer and that she was determined to make him proud of her. It was like everything she did, every achievement she ever had, was something she did just to please her father. And I learned later that Mr. Roberts wasn't the easiest man to please."  
  
Candace listened attentively.  
  
"Marcia didn't have many friends on campus and none of my friends liked her. When I told Chuck, he's my best friend, anyway when I told Chuck that I was dating Marcia, he thought that I was crazy. He said that she was the biggest snob that he had ever met. But I didn't see that. I just saw a woman who created this wall around her because she was so afraid of rejection. When she was with me, she let down those defenses. It wasn't about being perfect or being a success. It was just about who she was inside, about being Marcia. And when I was with her, I felt...I felt alive. I felt excited about little things. I don't know, the world looked different somehow...it looked...I'm not making any sense, am I?"  
  
Candace smiled at him. "You're making perfect sense. The world looked different because you were young and in love. You weren't just seeing the world through your eyes, but through her eyes as well."  
  
Gary stared at Candace momentarily amazed that she seemed to have been able to read what he felt in his heart all those years ago.  
  
"Marcia and I dated for awhile. I knew that she was the woman that I wanted to marry. But she was hesitant about me meeting her parents. At the time I didn't really understand why she kept stalling. Finally, she invited me to dinner with her parents. Mrs. Roberts welcomed me into their home. She was a pleasant woman and even though I felt nervous, she told me that she could tell that I loved her daughter very much. She said that she could see how happy I made Marcia. But Mr. Roberts acted like I was some unworthy, second class citizen. He asked me all of these questions about my plans for the future. I guess at the time I didn't think anything of it. I mean, I was a man who was seriously interested in his daughter so it made sense that her father would want to know my intentions. But he didn't like my answers when I told him that I loved Marcia, wanted to make her my wife someday, and have children with her. He said that he wanted more for his daughter than to see her barefoot and pregnant."  
  
"He said that?" Candace asked, shocked.  
  
"He said that." Gary confirmed wearily. "Then he added in that condescending tone of his that we were young and that we really didn't know what we wanted. No, correction, he said that I was young and that I didn't know what I wanted. He implied that he didn't believe that I was dating his daughter exclusively, that he expected a young man like me not to want to limit his options. I never knew what I had said or done to make him dislike me so much. The day Marcia and I got married, he didn't welcome me into the family nor wish us well. He acted like he was laying odds that our marriage wouldn't last, that Marcia would come to her senses and realize that she made a big mistake." Gary briefly hesitated, the emotional weight of his words seemingly bearing down upon him.  
  
Instinctively, Candace placed her hand over his in a comforting gesture. "It's okay." She whispered.  
  
She gazed into his eyes; those eyes were reservoirs of so much pain. The demons were struggling to hold on.  
  
He offered her another smile. Just her presence, her listening, her gestures, felt like an unexpected life preserver tossed to a desperate man who had been drowning in his own sorry; such a heavy burden that he had felt ill equipped to share his heartache with even his parents or his friends. But she, this woman, was more than an apparition of hope. She was a kindred spirit.  
  
He swallowed hard before continuing. "I never planned to stifle Marcia. I loved her. I was proud of her success. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to have her dreams. That's why I became a stockbroker. We needed the money so she could go to law school and being a broker allowed me to finance her dream. To this day, I still can't believe that I ended up as a broker. I really hated math in high school."  
  
"Me too. I've been out of high school for awhile now and I'll never understand Algebra. I think that will be a mystery that I'll take to my grave." Candace said, laughing.  
  
Gary returned her laugh. Despite that he could feel his heart pounding, that his voice felt shaky, and that his words seemed inadequate, she had made him laugh.  
  
"I know. Mixing letters and numbers, what's that about anyway?" He agreed. "Anyway, for as much as I hated my job, I kept telling myself that I could handle it. Besides, once Marcia finished school and had her career on track, I assumed that we'd be able to start our family. She said that she wanted children, I know that she said that. I would have never misunderstood something so important. But that dream died one day I came home from work. It was our wedding anniversary."  
  
"What happened?" Candace asked softly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
The demons refused to be conquered. All of them- guilt, pain, anger, and unfulfilled dreams swirled possessively inside Gary's head. Even if the other interlopers decided to seek shelter someplace else, the most stubborn of the bunch, the unfulfilled dreams, would not abandon its abode. This demon shared Gary's bed at night when Gary fought insomnia or awoke in the middle of the night tormented by those painful "what ifs." This demon followed him around like a demanding shadow on his saves and crystallized whenever he saw of a couple in love or a mother pushing a baby in a carriage. And every time Gary gazed at that gold band on his finger, it was the demon of unfulfilled dreams that stared back at him mockingly.  
  
His wedding ring. A symbol of love and of hope now represented a badge of failure, a twin to that invisible scarlet letter "F" blazing on his chest.  
  
He hesitated. He wanted to tell Candace about the day of his wedding anniversary, that horrible day that changed his life forever. He needed to tell her. Maybe the revelation, assigning words to his pain, would cleanse him of his demons and put him on the road towards closure.  
  
"I never saw it coming. The divorce, I mean." He began slowly. "My parents have been married for over thirty years and I grew up with this ideal of marriage based on what they showed me. Sure, they had their fights and Mom would say that Dad was like an overgrown kid and Dad would complain that Mom drove him crazy with her nit picking over small stuff. But both of them would readily admit that they married their best friend. They love each other very much. I thought that I had married my best friend, too. I've shared things with Marcia that I've never shared with anyone else. And she told me that I made her feel safe and loved and that feeling was something she never knew before she met me. Anyway, the night before our anniversary, I brought up the subject of children again. And this time, Marcia didn't give me some excuse about having to wait to start our family because of her career. You see, she was an associate at this large firm downtown. The senior partner enjoyed making associates miserable, working them like dogs so he could line his pockets with client fees. Marcia came to work most days before 7 a.m. and didn't leave the office until 8 or 9 at night. I hated seeing her working so hard, but she'd say that survival at a big law firm was like survival of the fittest and that she wasn't about to be one of the lawyers who got weaned out. She was determined to become a partner. I know it wasn't easy being one of a few women at her firm. And Tradley, that's the senior partner, he did everything he could to make her life a living hell. But she stuck it out. A few weeks ago, the night before our wedding anniversary, she won a case for a major client. Her win meant that the firm was rolling in dough. She came home very excited because Tradley was thrilled and he hinted that she was on her way to the top if she kept doing what she was doing. Since the pressure to prove herself seemed to be off, I figured that this would be the perfect time to talk about having a baby. I guess being married to a lawyer started paying off for me because I had all my arguments ready. Marcia listened and then she told me that I was right, that it was time to make plans for the future. Then she said that she was very tired so we went to bed early. But I had trouble falling asleep because I was so happy and excited. Finally, we were going to start our family. The next morning..." Gary paused briefly. He searched Candace's eyes. She smiled at him reassuringly.  
  
"The next morning was our wedding anniversary. " He continued. "I woke up at 7:30 and was surprised that Marcia was still in bed. She said that she wasn't feeling very well so she was going to take the day off. She had never taken a day off from work before, but I figured that she deserved it since she had been working so hard. I was concerned about her. And I guess it's silly, but I actually thought that maybe she might already be pregnant and that she was waiting to surprise me with the news on our anniversary. I mean, she hadn't put up any arguments the night before when I talked about having a baby. But I didn't want to confirm my suspicions because it would ruin her surprise. So I told her to take it easy and that I'd fix her breakfast in bed. I also told her that I'd cancel our dinner reservations for tonight and that I'd cook her a romantic dinner at home. I made her breakfast and then I got ready for work. I told her that I'd call her during the day. Then I kissed her goodbye. Before I left for work, I told her that I loved her.  
  
I called a couple of times during the day, but she didn't answer the phone. I just figured that she was resting. It seemed like the day took forever, but finally it was over. I remember coming home from work, sitting on the train with my bag of groceries and flowers for her, and thinking how lucky I was.  
  
When I got to the house and tried to put my key in the lock, it wouldn't go in. I just figured that maybe I was using the wrong key, you know, trying to use my office key instead of my house key. I called up to Marcia. I heard the window crack up and then she poked her head out of the window. I said 'Happy Anniversary'. The next thing I knew, she yelled 'Heads Up' and threw my suitcase out of the window."  
  
"Oh my God!" Candace gasped.  
  
"Yeah." Gary whispered forlornly. " I couldn't believe it. I kept staring at my suitcase there on the ground. I felt so numb. I guess I just stood for a few minutes. Then I picked up my suitcase and I walked around for awhile. I still couldn't believe what happened. It felt like this bad dream that I kept thinking that I'd wake up from, but I didn't. Somehow I ended up in front of this place and I got a room. I called Marcia. I figured that if she'd just talk to me I could figure out what I had done wrong and make it up to her. But she hung up on me. I was so worried about her because I didn't know what happened. I just wanted her to be all right.  
  
Chuck told me that I had to admit to myself that it was over, but I couldn't do that. I called her at least a dozen times and I thought that if I stopped by to see her, if we could talk face to face, maybe.... Before I knew it, she had me served with divorce papers. And just like that, my marriage was over."  
  
"Gary, I'm...I'm so sorry."  
  
Gary managed a weak smile. "My friend Marissa hates the word sorry."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go from here, what I'm supposed to do. You talked about acceptance, that it will come some day, that it just takes time. I'm trying, but I can't seem to make this hurt go away. Or, make the anger go way. You know, last night, Chuck and some of my fraternity brothers took me out hoping to cheer me up. I remember sitting at the table drinking my beer and listening to Bob go on and on about the baby he and his wife were expecting. God forgive me, but I felt angry at Bob because he was the guy in college who never showed women any respect yet here he was happily married and expecting a baby. I know it was wrong, but I felt jealous and envious."  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Thank you. I mean, you know, for listening." Gary said awkwardly.  
  
Candace reached for his hand. "No, thank you for trusting me enough to share all this with me. I know that it wasn't easy. And Gary, you will make it. You will heal. Have faith."  
  
"You sound just like Marissa."  
  
She smiled. "And my sister Janet tells me all the time that faith is like this wonderful candle that never goes out and that it is always there to light the way even when everything seems so dark. I know that...."  
  
The sound of Alex crying in his sleep interrupted Candace's thoughts. She rushed from the table over to her son. She cradled him in her arms. The little boy told his mommy about the monsters that were after him. She reassured him that she wouldn't let any monsters hurt him. She held him tightly for awhile continuing to soothe him with her reassuring words.  
  
Gary watched this tender moment between mother and son in reverent silence. A few moments later, Alex yawned again and fell back to sleep.  
  
A mother's soothing words had fought the demons plaguing her son's dreams. And that same mother, a kindred spirit who understood his pain, had enabled Gary to confront his own demons. She had listened with her heart and with her words, had offered him a road map towards closure.  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
Last night, he slept. Peacefully. With no grief. With no anger. With no guilt. And the demon of unfulfilled dreams didn't share his bed, insinuate itself into his dreams or awakened him with nightmares.  
  
Last night, the demons allowed him to sleep. He had no illusions that they were gone. Perhaps they were off somewhere plotting a new strategy. He would deal with their reappearance when the time came. For now, he was grateful to whatever deity had enabled him an unburdened mind and spirit so he could enjoy the best night's rest he had in weeks.  
  
Maybe it wasn't a deity who had willed him the clarity that allowed him to rest. Maybe his angel was a woman who had taught him how to put a name on his pain so he could confront it. Maybe this was the greater truth that had frightened the demons away.  
  
Gary awoke the next morning even before the cat's arrival. He felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Paper was a tremendous responsibility, something he was still learning how to handle, but he decided not to allow the responsibility to overshadow his life. Even Clark Kent had a life outside of those tights, cape, and boots! It was about time that Gary Hobson put his life in order. He had saved some money and had some stocks available that he had from when he worked at the brokerage house, but he knew that these resources wouldn't last forever. And there was no way he would accept that money that Marcia had offered, money stained with the blood of their discarded marriage. Chuck would tell him to use The Paper as "a tool for becoming very rich". But it didn't seem right for him to use The Paper to fatten his own wallet. While he didn't know why he had been selected to don the persona of a hero, he was certain that his own monetary gain wasn't the reason.  
  
He needed to get a job, pure and simple, a job that didn't interfere with The Paper.  
  
Gary also wanted to update Marissa and Chuck about Candace and Alex. He was sure that Marissa would offer sound advice on how he could help his new friends. He wasn't so sure about what to expect from Chuck. Gary knew an initial step would be learning all he could about Asperger's Syndrome.  
  
As he sat at the kitchen table in his robe and sipping a cup of black coffee, Gary marveled how this new day was in stark contrast to the previous day. Yesterday, he feasted on self-pity. And when he saved Alex from the supermarket accident, the little boy had cried hysterically, calling him a bad man. Later, he had learned about Candace and Alex and in the process, he had revealed to Candace some things about himself. And more importantly, he found that a special bond had been cemented between the three of them.  
  
"Meow." Thump.  
  
The cat's arrival intruded upon Gary's thoughts. Gary proceeded to the door, opened it, and found the cat sitting on top of The Paper. He starred questioningly at the feline. Since first receiving this unique and mysterious early edition a few weeks ago, Gary had so many unanswered questions about its origins. He wondered if he would ever learn the answer as to why he had been given the power to change others' futures, to help others and to change lives when he had been unable to see and to prevent his own heartache. The Paper was mercifully quiet with its stories today offering simple rescues and a first save, a slip and fall that wouldn't occur until noon. He had time to have breakfast with Chuck and Marissa, peruse the job classifieds, and maybe take a trip to the library to begin his research.  
  
After calling Chuck and Marissa and inviting them to breakfast, Gary quickly showered and dressed. He headed for the door and was shocked when he opened it to find an unexpected visitor.  
  
"Marcia." He whispered.  
  
She didn't respond. Instead, she shot him a piercing glance as she stalked uninvited into his room. Marcia was like a lion that had taken control of Gary's lair and in the process sought to turn him into a lamb.  
  
He closed the door. He walked towards her. "Marcia, I don't have time for this. I thought that we said all that we needed to say to each other last night." He said sharply.  
  
She turned around and gazed momentarily into those mud green eyes. Without warning, she slapped him hard across the face.  
  
"Not quite. You owe me an explanation, Gary. I have a right to know about that little boy I saw you holding last night...about your son!" She spewed.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
The force of Marcia's accusation, the venom in her tone and in her words,  
  
hit Gary harder and hurt him more than that slap across his face.  
  
"About my...what?" He responded, dazed.  
  
"You know, I came here last night because I was worried about you. I was  
  
worried about all the adjustments that you suddenly had to make in your  
  
life. That's why I wanted you to have that money so that you'd have one  
  
less thing to deal with. I wanted you to know that even though we weren't  
  
married anymore, I still care about what happens to you and that I hoped  
  
that we could at least be friends. When I saw that little boy...when I saw  
  
how much he looks like you, how your face lit up when you held him, and how  
  
comfortable and happy he looked in your arms, I knew then that our whole  
  
relationship was based on a lie. All last night I tried convincing myself  
  
that I could be wrong, that there was no way that you would have fathered a  
  
child and not told me. Then I started remembering things, little things.  
  
I remembered that discussion we had about a father's rights to prevent the  
  
mother of his child from having an abortion even when he wasn't married to  
  
her. You seemed so adamant, so passionate almost as if the issue was very  
  
personal to you when you told me that even if you weren't married to the  
  
child's mother, you'd want her to have the baby and you'd want to help her  
  
raise the child. I remembered thinking at the time how sweet and how  
  
sensitive it was for you to think that way because the most some men who  
  
were faced with that predicament would do would be to offer to pay for the  
  
abortion or would pay child support. And when you didn't pressure me to...  
  
" Marcia briefly hesitated, "...when you told me that you would wait until  
  
we were married before we were intimate, that made me feel special. I  
  
remember thinking how lucky I was because a lot of men wouldn't be so  
  
willing to wait. I guess I was the fool, huh? Thinking that you were being  
  
patient, that you were waiting, when all along you were having your fun on  
  
the side. Is that why you were so insistent that I become pregnant right  
  
away after we got married? Did you think that you could spring that woman's  
  
child on me and give me some argument that our child deserved to have a  
  
relationship with his or her half-sibling? I thought that you loved me,  
  
that you were committed to our relationship. I defended you to my father.  
  
I told him that you were different when all along you were..."  
  
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare talk to me about commitment!" Gary  
  
interrupted Marcia mid-sentence, his shock turning to anger that punctuated  
  
his words. His ire had been unleashed as those usual gentle mud green eyes  
  
danced fervently with anger. "I was committed to you the moment I knew that  
  
I loved you. I never looked at...I never wanted another woman from that  
  
moment on. I planned to grow old with you until death do us part. It was  
  
you who threw away our commitment, our love...our future." He paused  
  
briefly, his voice cracking under weighty emotion. "And don't you dare talk  
  
to me about your father. That man was the biggest...the  
  
biggest...manipulator I've ever met. But then again, I guess I was the  
  
biggest fool because if you loved me, you would have never allowed your  
  
father's manipulation to sabotage our love. He knew that he could control  
  
you, that he could manipulate you, because you like to pretend that you're  
  
this strong, tough attorney when what you really are is this scared little  
  
girl. You're a scared little girl, Marcia, a scared little girl who needs  
  
her daddy's praise and approval to make her feel good about herself. And  
  
when you weren't starving for Daddy's approval, you were letting that miserable old  
  
coot Tradley define who you are. And while you were looking for their  
  
approval, you were blind to the one person who never asked you to prove  
  
anything, the one person who loved you for who you are...were.  
  
And for the record, I owe you nothing! I stopped owing you anything that  
  
day in the lawyer's office. But I will tell you the truth, Marcia. Alex  
  
isn't my son. But by God, I wish that he were. He's a wonderful and  
  
special little boy. I wish more than anything that I was his father.  
  
You talk about us being friends. We will never be friends, Marcia. Not  
  
ever again....if we ever were friends. Friends don't treat each other, they  
  
don't hurt each other, the way you hurt me. You wanted to end our  
  
relationship. You never asked me what I wanted. How I felt never mattered  
  
to you. Okay, so let's end it. Right here. Now. Once and for all. That  
  
means no unannounced visits, no phone calls, and no dates."  
  
Gary proceeded to the door and opened it. "Good bye, Marcia!" He said  
  
forcefully.  
  
Marcia was stunned. Blinking back her tears and without saying a word, she  
  
proceeded to the door. She shot him one last lingering gaze before walking  
  
out of the door. He slammed the door behind her. A few minutes later, Gary  
  
left the room.  
  
A demon had returned. Anger, like a jealous and possessive shadow, followed  
  
him.  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped and a shy sun peeked out  
  
from the brazen clouds.  
  
As she sat on the window seat in Alex's bedroom, Candace stared at the  
  
lingering pellets of rain plastered to the window. No longer modest, the  
  
sun cast a conceited light on the window intent on banishing the last  
  
remnants of rain.  
  
Sun shower.  
  
That's what Nana always called it when she was little. Candace remembered  
  
her Nana, her maternal grandmother, insisting that whenever an unpredictable  
  
rain emerged from clear skies and ended suddenly to reveal a glorious sun,  
  
it was a sun shower. The sun was dealing with such an array of emotions  
  
that it had no avenue for controlling them except to retreat in its misery  
  
and allow the clouds to cry on its behalf. Then, somehow, Mother Nature  
  
would comfort her upset child. The sun would be soothed and would return  
  
bright and happy.  
  
A sun shower.  
  
She hadn't thought about Nana in years, but today had dredged up her  
  
childhood memories. Perhaps it was what happened at the laundromat that had  
  
made her reflect on the past.  
  
She glanced over at Alex sleeping in his bed. His little chest raised  
  
methodically with each breath. He looked so peaceful just like the sun.  
  
Yet, a short while ago, Alex was as emotional drained as the sun when it  
  
had surrendered to the clouds' tears. He had collapsed on the laundromat  
  
floor, crying uncontrollably as strangers stared at him in disgust.  
  
Candace called Alex's episode a "meltdown." This particular meltdown had  
  
come about unexpectedly, was fast and furious, and like the sun shower, it  
  
was over almost as quickly as it has started.  
  
She had planned to do laundry then take Alex to Lincoln Park. Alex was so  
  
happy when they left the apartment. He had even asked her whether Gary  
  
could come to the park with them. She wasn't sure how to respond so she  
  
said that she didn't know if Gary was free, but that they could stop by and  
  
ask him. Alex smiled, seemingly pacified by his mother's explanation.  
  
Alex was completely mesmerized by the washing machine. He gazed at the  
  
glass of the washing machine and studied the clothes that were held hostage  
  
inside as they were bathed by all those fluffy soap suds and punished by a  
  
maddening cycle of circular motion as they went around and around and  
  
around. The clothes just kept going around and around and around. They  
  
never stopped nor cried out for help. They never asked to be liberated.  
  
Then it happened. An array of sounds competed in a loud medley of torment.  
  
A fire truck with a piercing wail darted pass outside just as a loud popping  
  
sound came from a nearby washer and a customer's dog howled. Alex began  
  
crying as he fell to the floor like a soldier shot down in battle. A young  
  
woman attempted to help touched him. However, when she touched him that  
  
only seemed to intensify the little boy's torment. Alex continued crying  
  
and thrashing about on the floor. Candace rushed to him. She lifted him  
  
off of the floor and gently cradled her son in her arms as she soothed him  
  
with her words. Even in his emotional state, only his mother's reassuring  
  
touch could reach him.  
  
This meltdown was over quicker than the ones Alex had experienced in the  
  
past. It was only ten minutes. Only. Hardly a comforting word. While  
  
Candace was grateful that Alex had suffered for ten minutes and not the  
  
thirty or forty-five minutes that had characterized previous meltdowns, the  
  
fact that her child had to suffer through this hell for even a moment killed  
  
her. She had told Gary that Alex was attuned to her emotionally. The truth  
  
was that they were attuned to each other; Alex's meltdowns became her  
  
meltdowns. The hellish world that he lived through as he combated the  
  
affects of Asperger's Syndrome was a shared hell, a painful bond endured by  
  
mother and son. And just like those clothes held hostage in the washing  
  
machine or like Sisyphus that tragic figure in Greek mythology that was  
  
punished in Hades by having to push a huge rock up a hill over and over  
  
again only to have the rock roll down when it reached the top, she and Alex  
  
had so many rocks to push.  
  
And the rocks just kept rolling down.  
  
Candace felt tears trailing down her cheek. No. No, she couldn't do this.  
  
She couldn't cry. If she cried, then she would invite pity. Pity would  
  
become her friend, her confidante. Pity would manipulate her, tell her to  
  
give up, to give up on her son and on trying to give him the kind of happy  
  
and secure life he deserved.  
  
Still, handling all of this alone sometimes wore her down so much that she  
  
wondered if she could replenish her exhausted emotional reserves.  
  
And dealing with Alex's meltdown was even more difficult when she thought of  
  
the package that lay on her lap. She flipped over the package. Fresh tears  
  
sprung into her eyes as she read the name of the sender: Alan Miller.  
  
This package from Alan, from her ex-husband and Alex's father, felt like her  
  
own rock as she tore open the item.  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
She placed the little toy train on the window seat as she unfolded Alan's letter and began to read it. As she read his words, sadness sent a powerful chill throughout her body. How incredible that these words felt as if a stranger had scripted them. She had spent most of her young life loving this man and had bore his child. Yet, their love had been reduced to a letter and a little yellow toy train that sat on the window seat.  
  
And a child support payment check. A handsome amount, but a sum that could never erase the fact that Alan would be an absentee father in his son's life. Maybe if she had done something different. Maybe if she hadn't pushed Alan so much after they learned that Alex suffered from Asperger's Syndrome. Maybe if....  
  
Maybe if... Nothing! Her inner voice interjected quelling the guilt percolating in her psyche. Alan was the one who had decided that his happiness took precedence over his son's emotional well being. He was the one who answered the call of his career instead of hearing the cries of his son at night as Alex was plagued by nightmares. When Alan first left their lives, Alex would sometimes awake from his nightmares calling for his father.  
  
Where's Daddy? Where's Daddy? Daddy? Daddy! Alex would plead fervently, his query a mixture of heartache and confusion. Like any kid who became a casualty to divorce, crying out for the absentee parent wasn't unusual. Nor was crying oneself to sleep. They were the demented lullabies that were heard over and over and over again in the brain. Then one day, the child would stop crying and stop asking. Stop wondering. Stop expecting. But never stop hurting. Never that. Always feeling abandoned. Always feeling different.  
  
And for a child with Asperger's Syndrome whose disorder sentenced him to a lifetime of being viewed as "different", parental rejection was another painful prison for which he could not escape.  
  
Candace swelled with anger thinking about Alan's abandonment. She had tried so hard justifying it in her mind, justifying it even to Gary.  
  
"Alan loves his son, I know that. He just didn't know how to be the kind of father Alex needs or deserves" She had confessed to Gary.  
  
"Where are you? I mean, what stage are you in?" Gary had asked when she told him about the stages of divorce.  
  
"Somewhere between anger and guilt." She replied.  
  
Today, right now, it was just anger.  
  
The happy tone of Alan's letter exacerbated her anger. He was loving New York. Julliard was great, perfect. He was living his dream. And Heather said he had a lot of musical talent. Heather agreed that he would be a shining star in the musical world. Heather had known a lot of musicians so she knew talent when she heard it. Heather could see him taking the musical world by storm. Heather was studying opera so of course she had a good ear. She knew these things. Heather had a lot of connections in the music business so she promised to help him.  
  
Who the heck was Heather? Candace wondered angrily. Who was this women that Alan felt the need to punctuate every thought, every sentence with her name as if her name were the proper grammatical structure learned in English class? Of course, Candace already knew the answer to her question. She knew it even as the question fermented in her brain. Alan gushed like some pathetic, lovesick schoolboy over this mysterious trollop! Candace mentally berated herself; she was calling a woman she didn't know a tramp just because Alan had...because Alan... because he had...  
  
Say it! Her inner voice challenged.  
  
"Because Alan had fallen in love with someone else." She uttered aloud, softly.  
  
"The Heather Tribute" was also interspersed with references to his son. Alan wrote that he had remembered how much Alex loved trains and how he hoped that Alex would enjoy this toy. Then Alan wrote the words that rammed the knife further in her chest.  
  
"I loved you, Candace, but we should have never gotten married. We were too young. We hadn't even experienced life. And to have Alex even after the few years it took to have him, we shouldn't have done that. What did we know about being parents. We were living in a romantic ideal. I'm sorry, Candace. I'm sorry that I can't be there for you, for Alex. The truth is, I don't know how to be a father. I didn't know how to deal with Alex's problem. Maybe you'll meet someone someday who will be the kind of husband, the kind of father Alex deserves. I pray that that happens. I love Alex very much, I do, but I don't know how to help him. And I was afraid that if I stayed around him, I would end up resenting him, resenting my own son and I didn't want to do that. Forgive me."  
  
Sprinkled in his apology, Candace sensed finality. Never once had Alan said that he planned to come back to Chicago to see his son, that he even wanted any kind of relationship with Alex. Instead, Alan seemed content to live in New York, explore his music, and have a relationship with Heather. He had no room in his life for Alex and for Asperger's Syndrome, the invisible twin that would always shadow their son.  
  
Her tears stained the letter. A few moments later, she folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. She rose from the window seat and proceeded to Alex's bed. She lay down in the bed next to him wrapping her arms around him in a cocoon of love. She would never leave him. Not ever.  
  
A few unexpected raindrops hit the window sill as the heavens shared her sorrow.  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
By the time Gary entered McGinty's, he was drenched. It was clear that  
  
heroics wouldn't stand still for indecisive weather so he knew that rain or  
  
no rain he would be back out there this afternoon for his saves. And having  
  
The Paper didn't mean that he always checked the weather report. If Mom  
  
were around he could just hear her scold him about not carrying an umbrella  
  
(just in case) or wearing a jacket. Sometimes he believed that it was  
  
easier to survive a cold than Mom's pampering followed up by her lectures  
  
for his "disobedience" ("See what happens when you don't listen to your  
  
mother?") At least with a cold he could take some medicine, suffer a few  
  
days, and be back on his feet. Mom's lectures were often merciless and  
  
would ring in his ears for a long time afterwards.  
  
The ever changing weather today seemed to complement the flow of his life.  
  
Last night he had slept peacefully and felt optimistic about his plans for  
  
the day. And the sun shone brilliantly even during these early morning  
  
hours. Then Marcia had shown up unexpectedly hurling accusations. His  
  
anger consumed him as her words took hold and he pulled out his own arsenal  
  
of stinging words ensuring that she'd understand that he wanted to sever all  
  
ties with her. He left The Blackstone and walked a few blocks before the  
  
sky turned black and the rain washed the sidewalk. But the rain quickly  
  
stopped and the sun re-emerged for the curtain call anticipated from the  
  
star performer. Were the clouds waiting in the wings like a blushing  
  
understudy hoping for her big break? Maybe. Because a short while later  
  
the sun had once again departed and the clouds took over beating the city  
  
with heavy rains.  
  
Just like his attitude today- happy then angry then happy. And now angry.  
  
He was angry with himself, for surrendering his heart to a selfish soul like  
  
Marcia. How could he have been so blinded to who and what she was? When  
  
she came to his room this morning, slapped him, then accused him of being  
  
Alex's father and keeping the truth from her, he felt as if he were seeing  
  
the real Marcia Roberts for the very first time. If she believed that he  
  
were capable of making a mockery of his love and commitment to her while  
  
they were dating by carrying on an illicit affair with another woman, then  
  
she never knew him. And how could she believe that he would have a son out  
  
there and want to keep the boy a secret? He would be so happy, so proud to  
  
be a father. He would tell everyone, shout it to the world. And he would  
  
never settle for being a sporadic father who occasionally popped into his  
  
child's life. He would spend all the time he could with his son just as Dad  
  
did with him. Even though his words had been fueled by his anger, he meant  
  
it when he told her that he wished more than anything that he were Alex's  
  
father.  
  
And he was angry with Alan Miller. He kept telling himself that he had no  
  
right to judge this man he had never met, that he had no right to feel this  
  
anger towards him, but he did. Here was a guy who had been blessed with a  
  
beautiful wife and son and he discarded them because he couldn't handle that  
  
his son didn't live up to some societal ideal of perfection. He sensed that  
  
Candace would have to face raising Alex alone and that made him even  
  
angrier. What kind of life would she face? What kind of life would Alex  
  
face? Even in the best scenario with the two parent ideal, kids faced a  
  
lot. Gary had known one kid when he was growing up in Hickory who was from a  
  
broken home. The girl had an extremely close relationship with her mother  
  
who had struggled to raise her daughter by herself with no financial or  
  
emotional support from her ex-husband. Yet, her daughter had not used her  
  
pain to retreat into a shell of self-loathing or a condemnation of others  
  
who enjoyed a parental lifestyle that she craved. Instead, she had an  
  
infectious personality that made it easy for her to make friends. She  
  
excelled in school. However, he sensed that not having her father in her  
  
life was something that she would never get over. He sensed it everytime  
  
there was a parent-teacher event and she was the only student there with one  
  
parent. And he sensed it when other kids talked happily about their fathers  
  
and she would just smile. She had no stories to share about wonderful times  
  
spent with her dad. What heartache must have been hidden underneath that  
  
smile?  
  
But Alex would have the added burden of dealing with school bullies and  
  
adult judgments without a father to stand up for him and to tell him that  
  
other people's opinions of him didn't matter because his family loved him.  
  
Gary remembered that even when his dad embarrassed him with crazy antics he  
  
knew that his dad loved him, that he could depend on Dad. Dad had fought his  
  
battles when he was a kid, and Dad was always there for him to let him know  
  
that everything would be okay. Of course, he loved Mom and she did her  
  
share of fighting on his behalf, but there was something unique and special  
  
about male bonding that Mom would never understand. A boy needed a father.  
  
Alan Miller didn't deserve to have this wonderful son. That man was no  
  
better than an anonymous sperm donor who happily ignored parental  
  
responsibility.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Gary spotted Chuck and Marissa seated at a back booth  
  
and walked over to join his friends. Chuck was mounting an attack on a huge  
  
stack of pancakes. Maple syrup generously cascaded throughout the pancakes.  
  
Numerous sausage links were methodically lined on the plate like soldiers  
  
standing at attention and awaiting an order from their commanding officer.  
  
Marissa broke off a piece of her toast and fed it to Spike who had been  
  
sitting at her feet in anticipation. The dog gratefully accepted the  
  
morsel, his heavy panting immediately ceasing as he ate.  
  
"Look what the cat dragged in." Chuck teased upon seeing Gary's disheveled  
  
appearance. Gary shot his friend a dirty look.  
  
"You know, Gar. You could have at least warned us about this weather.  
  
Sunshine then rain then sunshine then rain....how is a person supposed to  
  
know how to dress with psycho weather like this? I wouldn't have worn my  
  
new suede shoes if I had known that it was going to rain like this." Chuck  
  
whined.  
  
"I'm not a weather man." Gary replied.  
  
"Yeah, but you get The Paper so I figured that you must have some connection  
  
to the man upstairs." Chuck reasoned.  
  
"Right Chuck. I'll be sure to tell God the next time He's planning on a  
  
downpour that he needs to let me know beforehand so I can tell my friend how  
  
to coordinate his wardrobe." Gary said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"Testy. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this  
  
morning. You know, buddy. I think that these weeks with The Paper are  
  
wearing you down. You need some help and being the friend that I am, I'm  
  
volunteering my services." Chuck said.  
  
"Volunteering your services, huh? Let me guess, Chuck. You'll take all of  
  
the stories that are on the same page as the lottery or racing results,  
  
right?" Gary remarked, his comment producing laughter from Marissa.  
  
"You are so suspicious. I just want to help you out that's all. I don't  
  
have any ulterior motive." Chuck paused briefly before continuing. "But,  
  
of course, if you feel like, you know, sharing your good fortune with, you  
  
know, your best bud, that would be nice."  
  
"Nice try, Chuck."  
  
"How does The Paper look today?" Marissa inquired.  
  
"Okay." He said simply.  
  
Marissa's intuitiveness allowed her to "see" more clearly than most people.  
  
There was something in Gary's tone, in his manner today. She sensed that  
  
his breakfast meeting was about more than a desire to get together with his  
  
friends. She had the feeling that there was something important he needed  
  
to talk about.  
  
"Gary, did something happen with The Paper?" She asked.  
  
He was taken aback by her perceptiveness. It was as if she could read  
  
directly into his soul. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
"Would you leave the guy alone already? Maybe he doesn't want to talk about  
  
it?" Chuck offered.  
  
"No. No, it's okay. Something...something did happen yesterday with The  
  
Paper. Actually, it happened because of The Paper. I mean, it happened  
  
afterwards with one of my saves." He rambled.  
  
Chuck flashed him a confused look.  
  
Gary took a deep breath. "Something happened yesterday that I really need  
  
to talk to you guys about."  
  
Chapter Sixteen  
  
"What is it Gary?" Marissa asked softly.  
  
"Yeah, buddy. What happened?" Chuck chimed.  
  
Gary took a deep breath before speaking. "Yesterday, there was a story in The Paper about a little boy who would be injured in a supermarket when a shelf toppled over. I got to the supermarket in time to save him, but when I asked him if he was okay, he started crying hysterically. He kept calling me a bad man. All of these other customers came into the aisle. They kept looking at me like I was a child molester or something. Then this guy pulls out a cell phone and said that he was going to call the police."  
  
"My God!" Marissa gasped.  
  
"Buddy...is that why you're so testy this morning? Did you spend the night in jail? Gar, you should have called me. I would have bailed you out. Okay, so I'm having a bit of a cash flow problem at the moment. I probably shouldn't have bought these shoes, but sometimes if you want to mix with the bigwigs, you have to dress like them. Look successful and all that. But I would have done anything to get you out of the slammer even if...."  
  
"Chuck!" Gary roared, frustrated.  
  
"Sorry, buddy." Chuck replied sheepishly.  
  
"I didn't spend the night in jail. I wasn't arrested. Candace, that's the boy's mother, she realized that I wasn't trying to hurt her son. She thanked me for saving him and then invited me out for coffee. She wanted to explain to me why Alex, that's his name, why Alex behaved the way he did." Gary paused briefly before continuing. "Alex has something called Asperger's Syndrome."  
  
"As-Asparagus-what?" Chuck asked.  
  
"Asperger's Syndrome." Gary corrected. "It's a..."  
  
"...mild form of autism characterized by a fixation on objects and an emotional alienation from people which makes it difficult to develop communication and socialization skills." Marissa explained.  
  
Both Gary and Chuck stared at her amazed by her knowledgeable recitation.  
  
She "felt" their eyes and flashed them a smile. "I've always had an interest in psychology. And I heard about Asperger's Syndrome a few years ago. I guess that I was fascinated by it because of its similarities to blindness."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"When you're blind, you of course can't see things the way other people can. But that doesn't mean that you can't "see" in your own way. Or, that you can't feel. But people treat you like you're stupid, that you can't understand. I've heard some people compare Asperger's Syndrome to emotional blindness. They think that just because a person can't connect emotionally or communicate like most people that they can't understand or feel. That they are stupid. The truth is that a person with Asperger's Syndrome is extremely intelligent. It's just difficult for them to communicate the way someone without the syndrome would communicate."  
  
"Alex is special. He's a wonderful little boy." Gary interjected. "And his father walked out on the family just because Alex didn't live up to some ideal of perfection. Candace told me that she's been divorced for six months. She's such an incredible woman. She handling...she's doing everything for Alex by herself. What kind of man would do that, huh? What kind of man would desert his wife and son?" Gary asked, his voice laced with anger.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"I want to learn everything I can about Asperger's Syndrome. There has to be something I can do to help Candace and Alex. I was thinking that I could...I don't know, I could take them to Navy Pier or something. The Paper should give me some time off, right? I mean, I think that Alex would like that and I think..." Gary noticed the skeptical look painted on Chuck's face. "What?"  
  
"Gar, buddy, don't take this the wrong way. I know that you mean well, that you want to help this kid and his mother, but..."  
  
"But what?" Gary said.  
  
"But you're already dealing with a lot right now with The Paper and that divorce and..."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And you're not that boy's father."  
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
She awoke to the feel of soft and warm little fingers gently caressing her  
  
face. The beauty of that touch was followed by the wonderment of those  
  
expressive and magnificent sapphire eyes and the joy of his smile, a smile  
  
so unspoiled by life's cruelties and unquestionably sincere.  
  
"Mommy." His voice was pleasantly rapturous and like the skillfully plucked  
  
strings of a harp, that voice joyously tickled at her heart.  
  
Alex had taught her a long time ago how to listen with her heart. And she  
  
heard him. She heard him loud and clear even when it was difficult for him  
  
to find the words to communicate. She really didn't need words to hear him.  
  
He spoke to her with his touch. And with his eyes. And with his smile.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome had trapped him in an emotional prison, a frightening  
  
exile where fixation on objects rather than connecting with people became  
  
his solace.  
  
"Mommy. Lincoln Park?" He said. He gazed at her with those beautiful  
  
sapphire eyes. "Gary?" He added tentatively.  
  
He remembered.  
  
Candace realized that Alex had never connected so surprisingly and so  
  
completely with anyone as he had connected with Gary. When Alex looked at  
  
Gary, she knew that he didn't see an object that captured his stare. Alex  
  
saw a person, a human being that his soul had cried out to embrace. And  
  
Gary wasn't a stranger to Alex, but a man with whom her son felt comfortable  
  
and safe. This newly formed bond between Alex and Gary seemed to defy what  
  
the experts said about Asperger's Syndrome robbing a person of his ability  
  
to establish an emotional foundation with a stranger. Alex's relationship  
  
with Gary made her very happy.  
  
And it terrified her.  
  
What angel had sent Gary Hobson into their lives? Without question, this  
  
man with those gentle and honest mud green eyes was an unexpected savior,  
  
literally and emotionally. A big part of her was thrilled by the prospect  
  
that Gary would play a role in their lives. And Gary, in suggesting that he  
  
wanted to spend time with them, also seemed enthusiastic and happy by this  
  
notion. Yet, something inside of her screamed that she should stop this,  
  
stop it now before they all ended up hurt.  
  
She knew that Gary was still healing from his wounds. That ex-wife of his,  
  
that Marcia, certainly didn't deserve to have such a kind, caring, and  
  
incredible man love her so much. Candace felt such anger towards Marcia.  
  
She kept telling herself that she had no right to judge or to feel anger  
  
towards a woman she didn't know, but she couldn't help it. When Gary  
  
related what happened on his anniversary, his voice cracking from the pain  
  
and humiliation, she hated Marcia even more. This Marcia had thrown away a  
  
love so special and so rare in favor of a career. A career would never make  
  
a loving and devoted husband. A career would never be an attentive or  
  
passionate lover. One's bed would always remain cold at night stupidly  
  
expecting that the arms of professional success to provide warmth. A career  
  
was fickle. It was something that could shine brightly one moment and turn  
  
as black and hopeless as coal in an abandoned mine the next. And a career  
  
couldn't laugh, not that wonderful kind of laugh that came from a child  
  
created from a man and woman's love. How could Marcia have traded in the  
  
love of her husband and the hope of a child for the sterile and superficial  
  
world of professional success? How could she have hurt Gary so much?  
  
Candace wondered whether it was fair of her to expect Gary to play a part in  
  
their lives when he was still grieving for a future that Marcia had  
  
destroyed, a future of a long marriage and children. Maybe he  
  
subconsciously needed Alex as much as Alex needed him. She knew that  
  
Gary's heart overflowed with love. Maybe he needed to share that love with  
  
Alex in order to heal.  
  
But what would happen if one day Gary were around when Alex experienced a  
  
meltdown? She remembered how frightened Gary was that day in the  
  
supermarket when Alex cried hysterically and repeatedly called him a bad  
  
man. How would Gary handle one of Alex's full scale meltdowns, a meltdown  
  
that was more intense then what occurred today in the laudromat? Would Gary  
  
view Alex as a complication and want to walk away? Alan had viewed Alex as  
  
a complication and had walked away. Alan couldn't handle how Asperger's  
  
Syndrome had affected their son. He wrote in his letter that he was afraid  
  
that if he stayed around Alex that he would end up resenting his own son.  
  
And she felt the pain when Alex cried himself to sleep or called out for his  
  
daddy.  
  
She didn't want the same thing to happen with Gary. She didn't want to  
  
witness a day when Gary realized that he couldn't handle how Asperger's  
  
Syndrome affected Alex and decided that it was better to stay away from Alex  
  
than to resent the little boy. If Alex ended up spending a lot of time  
  
bonding with Gary, he wouldn't understand if Gary suddenly disappeared from  
  
their lives. And she had no right to expect Gary to want to deal with this  
  
aspect of their lives when Alex's own father couldn't handle it.  
  
She was so tired, emotionally exhausted. Yet, she smiled hopefully at Alex.  
  
They would go to Lincoln Park. And she would give Alex the best day  
  
possible.  
  
She knew that she had a difficult decision to make one that would hurt them  
  
all now, but in the long run, would be for the best. At least, that was  
  
what she hoped.  
  
Chapter Eighteen  
  
"And you're not that boy's father." Chuck reminded.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Gary snapped defensively.  
  
"It means that I know you buddy. I know how you have this tendency to always want to fix things, to make things right with everyone and everything and that you were like this even before you started getting The Paper. I can remember Lois telling me the story of that sparrow you found when you were a kid."  
  
"Sparrow?" Marissa inquired.  
  
"Yeah, Gar was about....what?....six or seven years old and he found this sparrow with a broken wing on their doorstop. Lois said that he took the bird in and decided that he was going to nurse the little guy back to health. He even took the bird to school with him because he didn't want to have it out of his sight. But the bird ended up dying." Chuck explained.  
  
Gary stiffened in his seat, his jaw clenched. "What's your point here, Chuck?"  
  
"My point is this little boy is not that sparrow. You can't take it upon yourself to fix his life. Of course, his father was a first-class jerk leaving him and the mother, of course you feel badly for them. But that's not your problem. Besides, you said that the kid has that emotional disorder, that Asper...uh...that...whatever you called it. Do you think that reading a few books will make you qualified to help him? And trips to Navy Pier or any other thing you plan to do with him and his mother will only suck you further into their lives. I know that you're hurting over Marcia and that maybe subconsciously you might even want to pretend that this kid is yours, that you feel happy and excited by the prospect of playing daddy. But I know you buddy. You won't be able to shut off your emotions. You'll get too attached to this woman and her child. And what if she starts dating and falls for someone else? How will you feel about that? Or, what if the boy's father comes back and decides that he wants his family back? Do you think that he'll want you hanging around his kid or his ex-wife for that matter? Where will that leave Gary Hobson then? I'll tell you where- outside looking in." Chuck said.  
  
"Chuck." Marissa admonished.  
  
"I'm just calling it like I see it."  
  
A brief, yet uncomfortable silence.  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not trying to be Alex's father. I'm just trying to be his and Candace's friend. That's it. They're both going through a lot and I want to help. I care about what happens to them. And I admit that I like spending time with them, but there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Gary countered.  
  
"Are you even listening to yourself? You're in major denial, Gar. You told us that you think that this Candace is an incredible woman. I saw how your face lit up when you were talking about her. Maybe you're feeling an attraction towards her even if you don't want to admit it. Maybe you're seeing her as everything that you wanted Marcia to be, everything that Marcia wasn't. Maybe you're seeing developing a relationship with them as your second chance at having the kind of life you've always wanted." Chuck argued.  
  
"Thank you very much, Dr. Freud." Gary said sarcastically. He rose from his seat.  
  
"Come on, Gar. Sit down. Look, I'm just worried about you. I don't want to see you get hurt. But if you think that you can handle it, then of course, I support you. How can I help?"  
  
"How can we help." Marissa chimed.  
  
Gary glanced at Chuck then Marissa. He sat back down in the seat. "I'm not really sure yet how you guys can help." Gary thought for a moment. "No wait. I plan to go to the library to do some research before my next save. I don't know how much I'll be able to accomplish. I have a save at noon and I also need to check the want ads and...."  
  
"Whoa, buddy. Back up. Why do you need to check the want ads?" Chuck asked.  
  
"Well, in case you've forgotten I walked out on Pritchard. I don't think that my savings are going to last forever. I need another job."  
  
Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "You're amazing. You have The Paper which is in my book like being told that you can go to a bank vault and take out all the money you want and you're still thinking about working?"  
  
"We've been over this already, Chuck. You know that I can't use The Paper like that because..."  
  
"...because of the invisible rules, I know. What am I going to do with you?" Chuck asked rhetorically. A brief silence. "Okay, how can I help you?" Chuck added.  
  
"Well, could you stop by the library before noon? Maybe you can continue with my research while I'm taking care of The Paper."  
  
"Sure. Just what I've always wanted to do- spend my lunch break in the library. I never did that when I was in college. I hope I still know how to do research." Chuck realized.  
  
"I'm sure that you'll find some pretty library patron who can't resist the Fishman charm if you run into any trouble." Gary teased.  
  
Chuck smiled. "You're right. Actually, maybe this research stuff won't be so bad after all."  
  
"And Marissa, since you know about Asperger's Syndrome, is there something else I could be doing to help Candace and Alex?" Gary asked.  
  
"Actually, I think that there is something that you need to do first." Marissa replied.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I think that you should talk to Candace and let her know that you want to be a part of helping her and Alex deal with Asperger's Syndrome and see how she feels about that." Marissa advised.  
  
Chapter Nineteen  
  
The heavy rains that had washed Chicago with a vengeance had finally stopped  
  
and in their aftermath, the sidewalks seemed refreshed sparkling with the  
  
glow of hope. But it was Lincoln Park that appeared to be the blessed  
  
beneficiary of the torrential downpour. The rains left behind a bountiful  
  
largess. The grass was alive emitting an invitingly intoxicating scent. It  
  
was as if the grass were like an exhausted body reborn after a day at the  
  
spa where old and tired skin, massaged with scented oils, radiated. The skin  
  
was beautiful, but its beauty had been concealed under the exhaustion and  
  
stresses of everyday life. The scented oils offered a welcoming reprieve  
  
and a reaffirmation of the inner beauty. Just as the rains had done by  
  
allowing the innate greenery of the overburdened grass to be reawakened.  
  
The park was bursting with people, the sounds and smells of joy could be  
  
heard and felt by all those present. The smell of hot dogs, Chinese food,  
  
and hoagies permeated the air as people sat on the grass or on benches and  
  
ate heartily. A young boy tossed a frisbee as his dog barked and wagged his  
  
tail happily in anticipation of a fervent chase. Soon, the frisbee fled  
  
soaring unchallenged in the air. The dog ran, jumped in the air, and  
  
captured the frisbee in his mouth. Students laughed and carried on animated  
  
conversations, the numerous voices sounding like the incessant buzzing of  
  
bees. But neither the sounds nor the smells bothered him; he didn't seem  
  
overwhelmed. And that made her very happy.  
  
Candace had packed a picnic basket of ham sandwiches, fruit, cookies, milk,  
  
and orange juice before leaving the apartment. She had never seen Alex so  
  
excited. Sometimes she marveled at the cruel irony that Asperger's Syndrome  
  
left Alex emotionally and developmentally naive in his ability to  
  
communicate and socialize with others yet seemingly endowed him with a  
  
frightening perception and intellectual acumen. When Alex thought about the  
  
rain, he hesitated for a moment before asking her 'where does rain come from.'  
  
He studied her intently imploring her with those beautiful sapphire eyes for  
  
an answer. She gazed into his eyes and paused before telling him the story  
  
that Nana had told her when she was a little girl; sometimes the angels are  
  
sad when they see how unhappy people on earth are, so they cry. Their tears  
  
wash the earth and remind all of God's children that God is watching over  
  
them and that things will be okay. That the people and angels will be happy  
  
again. And with their tears, the rain baths the earth and renews its  
  
beauty. The sun then reappears to give thanks. She wasn't really sure if  
  
Alex understood her explanation, but he did flash that glorious smile of his  
  
when he told her that he was glad people were happy now and that the angels  
  
didn't have to cry anymore. And he hoped that she didn't have to cry  
  
anymore either.  
  
He had heard her. She had tried so hard not to allow him to see or hear her  
  
sobs. The night her divorce was granted, she took Alex to the toy store. Of  
  
all the toys he could have chosen, he selected a teddy bear with big brown  
  
eyes. When they came home that night, she made him spaghetti and meatballs  
  
for dinner. That was one of his favorite meals. They watched television  
  
together with her snuggling on the couch with him. She held him so tightly  
  
and showered him with kisses. He reciprocated giving her numerous kisses in  
  
return. Then he went to bed. She watched him sleep for the longest time  
  
before going into her room. Once in her room, she removed her wedding  
  
picture off of the dresser. She carried the picture over to the bed then  
  
collapsed into pitiful sobs. Her back was away from the door. She didn't  
  
even hear the patter of his little feet as he crept into her room. He  
  
touched her back. In one hand he held the teddy bear. She tried to wipe  
  
away her sorrow but her tear stained face betrayed her. He told her not to  
  
be sad, not to cry before handing her the teddy bear. He told her that he  
  
wanted her to feel better. Then he got into the bed with her. The feel of  
  
his warm body, the sincerity of his touch, his quiet and steady breaths, and  
  
pulsating heart were the sensations that lulled her to sleep that night.  
  
The gift of his unquestioned and unwavering love along with the realization  
  
that they only had each other allowed her to survive that horrible night.  
  
They took care of each other.  
  
She loved her sister Janet very much. But Janet lived in New Jersey. Janet  
  
visited Chicago as often as she could, but she had her own life with its  
  
responsibilities and problems. It was Janet who had first realized that  
  
Alex might have developmental problems. And when the doctors confirmed that  
  
Alex had Asperger's Syndrome and all that this diagnosis entailed, it was  
  
Janet who told her that despite the doctors' somber tone regarding the  
  
quality of life Alex would experience, Asperger's Syndrome wasn't a death  
  
sentence. There would be hard times, as she learned later with Alex's  
  
meltdowns, but she was not going to roll over and play dead. She would  
  
fight anyone who stood in the way of Alex's happiness.  
  
Alan was gone and his letter was a clear indication that she couldn't depend  
  
on him where their son was concerned. Her parents had died ten years ago,  
  
killed in a car accident. She knew that Mom and Dad if they were alive  
  
would love Alex and support her efforts at giving him a good life. However,  
  
her ex in-laws, the Millers, were cold and distant. And sadly, four months  
  
ago, like their son, they considered Alex "defective". When she actually  
  
heard her father-in-law utter that word (thankfully not within Alex's  
  
earshot), she was livid. She and Mr. Miller exchanged angry words. Their  
  
conversation ended with Mr. Miller implicitly disinheriting his only  
  
grandchild.  
  
She wished more than anything that Nana were still alive. Her Nana,  
  
Alexandra Santasola, had always been her champion. When she was a little  
  
girl and whenever someone hurt her by their words or by their actions and  
  
she obsessed about what she could have done differently so that they would  
  
like her, Nana would say that her critics were too stupid or too blind to  
  
see the love that she carried in her heart. "Never see yourself through  
  
others eyes or convince yourself that you need to change to be what they  
  
want. What matters is how you feel about yourself." Nana's words offered  
  
solace whenever some self-proclaimed clique of popular girls denied her  
  
membership.  
  
Nana had died of a brain tumor a year before Alex was born. When she and  
  
Alan learned that she was pregnant, she told him that if she had a daughter,  
  
she wanted to name her Alexandra after the grandmother she adored. When she  
  
held Alex in her arms shortly after he was born, a nurse had asked the new  
  
parents for their son's name. Before she had a chance to respond "Alan,  
  
Jr." (the name she and Alan had agreed on for their son), Alan told the  
  
nurse that their son's name was Alexander, Alex for short. Tears welled in  
  
her eyes. She gazed at their son and her husband. That was the happiest  
  
moment of her life.  
  
Candace watched as Alex sat on the blanket and played with the little yellow  
  
toy train that Alan had given him. She wanted Alex to know that the toy  
  
came from his father. She told him that just because daddy didn't live with  
  
them anymore didn't mean that daddy didn't love him and that every time he  
  
held his toy train, he would remember that daddy loved him. Alex's smile  
  
tore at her heart. She vowed that Alex would never learn Alan's true  
  
feelings.  
  
A robin suddenly appeared. The bird sat next to Alex on the blanket. The  
  
robin wore its red chest, as red as blood, like a proud armor to protect  
  
itself against hurtful attacks. How different yet special this robin was  
  
compared to the fraternity of pigeons that Candace saw congregating in  
  
Lincoln Park today.  
  
A little hand reached out to gently caress the robin. The bird didn't fly  
  
away but remained still to Alex's touch.  
  
She understood and at that moment, she believed that Alex did too.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty  
  
It was almost 6:00 p.m. when Gary returned to The Blackstone, his arms overflowing with books and articles on Asperger's Syndrome. He had hit the mother lode in his research efforts and expected that he would be able to glean a lot of knowledge about a syndrome that only a few days ago he had never heard of and that now, because of an inexplicable emotional connection to a special little boy and his mother, had captivated his attention.  
  
Still Marissa's cautionary words resonated in his mind like the proud peals of church bells echoing in the winds long after their chime had ceased. Marissa seemed so sure that he needed to talk to Candace first to find out how she felt about him helping her and Alex deal with Asperger's Syndrome. Why wouldn't Candace welcome his help? He questioned. As far as he could tell, she had no one else to depend on. Her husband was gone. She had mentioned a sister, but he didn't know whether or not that sister lived in Chicago. She hadn't talked about her parents and he suspected that given her divorce, her relationship with her in-laws was strained at best and nonexistent at worst. A divorce claimed more casualties than the dissolution of the matrimonial bond. Often, an "equitable distribution" resulted in one of the former spouses inheriting the family and friends' loyalty and support. It became "I get the house, car, family and friends, you get the kid." Candace had gotten the kid; she had Alex. Yet, Gary realized that she was carrying a tremendous burden alone. Surely, she would be happy that he wanted to help her.  
  
But Marissa argued that his presence in Candace's life might represent another change that neither she nor Alex was prepared to handle. A chance meeting with a kind stranger who had saved her son was one thing. Opening herself up emotionally, like a virgin flower newly awaken by nature's call, was another. Clearly, Candace would be very protective of her son and would not want to compromise Alex's well being. When he flashed her a puzzled look followed by a pause, Marissa understood his silence. She alluded to the darker aspects of Asperger's Syndrome. She didn't elaborate on what those darker aspects were saying that he would discover them via his research. And once he did, he had to honestly ask himself whether he would be prepared to handle them. Marissa acknowledged that his heart was in the right place, but she also worried that Candace might interpret his good intentions as pity. He knew how Marissa felt about pity; she hated the word "sorry" whenever that word connoted pity. To others, her blindness made her someone to pity. But to her, it was her strength. There was a reason why God had determined that she should be blind so she viewed it as a blessing. Her blindness had enabled her to experience things, to feel things that sighted people took for granted.  
  
And there was a reason why God had given Alex Asperger's Syndrome. Well, she always said that The Paper came to him for a reason, that it was a miracle, per even God-given. Then, didn't that mean that by allowing him to save Alex, God had wanted him to play a role in Candace and Alex's lives? He challenged. Before he left his friends, Marissa smiled at him but reiterated her warning that he should be careful. He knew that he warning wasn't meant just for his saves.  
  
Fortunately, heroics today proved surprisingly uneventful. Job hunting, however, was another matter. He had circled in The Paper several prospects in the financial management consultant field and made his way towards the mammoth high rise buildings in downtown Chicago that people dubbed the financial district. As he entered one of the cold, gray buildings, he was gripped by a wave of nausea. He really hated this! He hated these edifices, these emotionless palaces in the sky that housed a slew of professional robots contented to play office politics, to suck up to some boss who they worshipped unquestionably like some all knowing and all powerful Buddha. And he hated the rows after rows of cubicles, sterile and impersonal, filled with a drab rainbow of black, navy, and gray suited minions willing to do anything to remain in the boss' good graces. He remembered Chuck equating the high-pressured world of trading to a jungle. Well, it always reminded him of the bucket of crabs he had collected on a trip to Atlantic City that summer when he was eight years old. The crabs were obviously unhappy with their imprisonment so they tried desperately to climb out of the bucket. But it seemed that whenever one crab was towards the top, seemingly able to taste the fresh air of freedom, another crab would yank that crab with its claws pulling the almost liberated crab back inside the bucket. Then without hesitation, the jealous crab would step on the fallen crab's back and begin its own flight towards freedom.  
  
What a telling metaphor for the world of business, the world of work, of life really- whenever a person almost succeeds or makes it to the top, there is always someone to pull that person down and then proceed to climb on the back of that person to ensure his own happiness.  
  
He looked at the large directory in the lobby with its array of long and pretentious sounding names of companies that the Wall Street Journal would peg as the financial elite. As he walked towards the elevator, his subconscious took control and despite the curious stares from onlookers and the lobby security guard, he did an unexpected U-turn through the revolving doors. He wasn't ready to do this today.  
  
However, his researching efforts were more successful then he had expected. Numerous books and articles on Asperger's Syndrome waited his digesting as if they were uncut diamonds in a mine awaiting an eager prospector. Before noon, Chuck had appeared at the library. After showing Chuck what he needed to do, Gary scurried out of the library for his next saves. When he returned a few hours later, the librarian told him that all his materials were at the front desk and that his friend had left him a note. Gary cracked a smile when he read Chuck's note. It seemed that Chicago's resident Lothario had used the debatable Fishman charm after all and managed to get himself a date with a fellow researcher!  
  
"Good evening, Mr. Hobson." Boswell greeted as Gary made his way towards the elevators.  
  
"Good evening, Boswell."  
  
"Mr. Hobson, a Mrs. Miller and her son stopped by while you were out. She left a message that she hoped to drop by again later."  
  
"Thank you, Boswell."  
  
As he entered the elevator, Gary felt happy by Boswell's announcement. Candace's surprise visit proved that Marissa was wrong. She wanted to continue their friendship. She wanted him to be a part of hers and Alex's life.  
  
Despite having his arms full, he managed to open the door and clumsily flipped on the lights. "Meow." The cat sat on the floor by the couch wagging his tail expectantly.  
  
"And how was your day?" He asked the cat.  
  
"Meow."  
  
"That good, huh? What, are you moving in here now?"  
  
"Meow."  
  
"Did you at least make dinner?"  
  
"Meow."  
  
"I didn't think so."  
  
Gary proceeded to the kitchen. He removed a can of tuna from the cabinet, opened it, and placed it in a dish on the floor. Without hesitation, the cat hurried to the food and began devouring the tuna, licking his lips in grateful acknowledgment.  
  
"I'm going to take a shower. You stay off of the furniture." Gary dropped the books onto the bed as he went into the bathroom.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Gary emerged from the shower wearing a red plaid shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He picked up one of the books before proceeding to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. Left over pizza stared back at him. It would have to do. He pulled out the box and placed it on the table.  
  
"In 1944, an Austrian physician named Hans Asperger published an article about the developmental difficulties he noticed among some of his young patients. These children demonstrated significant difficulties with social integration." He read. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza and took a bite, his eyes still buried in the book.  
  
"Asperger's Syndrome has been called a pervasive development disorder. Children with Asperger's Syndrome have an inability to interact socially, little ability to form relationships with others, and have an intense interest or a fixation with inanimate objects." He continued reading.  
  
He took another bite from his pizza. "...leads to exclusion and rejection by peers. Depression is often a...."  
  
A knock on his door interrupted Gary's reading. He proceeded to the door and opened it. He smiled when he saw that his visitors were Candace and Alex.  
  
"Come in." He invited. Candace and Alex entered the room. Gary closed the door then hoisted Alex into his arms. "How you doing, bud...ah...Alex?" Alex wrapped his arms tightly around Gary's neck and planted several kisses on Gary's cheek.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder at Candace, her expression troubled.  
  
"Is something wrong?" He asked.  
  
She looked at him nervously.  
  
He put Alex down. "Candace?"  
  
She motioned for Alex. The little boy approached his mother. She smoothed his hair and kissed him on the forehead before handing him his coloring book and directing him to the couch.  
  
Gary gazed at her curiously. "Would you two like anything?"  
  
"Actually, we've already eaten. But I was hoping for a cup of that wonderful coffee of yours." She said awkwardly.  
  
"Sure." He replied. She followed him into the kitchen as he put on a pot of coffee.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked.  
  
"I'm....I'm....ah....this is going to be harder to say than I thought." She responded cryptically. She glanced over at the couch. Alex seemed happily engaged with his coloring and oblivious to the conversation between the adults in the kitchen.  
  
"What is?" Gary inquired.  
  
"Gary, you have been wonderful, so great to Alex, to both of us."  
  
He smiled. "I didn't do anything. Like I said, you have a great kid there. I've enjoyed spending time with him, with both of you."  
  
"That's why it's hard for me to say....Gary, I.....I don't think Alex and I should see you anymore."  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-One  
  
He had heard her words, but for a moment his body was unable to react. He felt like one of those victims of a catastrophic event who watches with an almost eerie reverence, a horrible silence where emotion held hostage to an expressionless veneer desperately seeks to explode. Then it does; it explodes and the emotion is unleashed. Shock and disbelief, painful and all consuming, takes control. Those mud green eyes could never hide pain. And at this moment, they were reservoirs that hoarded the pain and fear of another relationship gone awry.  
  
"You...you don't think that you and Alex should see me anymore? But why? Look, Candace. If I've done something to upset Alex, then I apologize."  
  
"No, Gary. You've done nothing wrong. If anything, you've been just what Alex needs." Candace reassured.  
  
"I don't understand. Then why would you want to shut me out of your lives?" He asked, a twinge of sadness in his voice.  
  
She glanced over at Alex sitting on the couch. Alex had taken all of his crayons out of the box and had lined them on the table very methodically. She watched him pick up a crayon, stared at it for a moment as if he were studying it carefully before committing the color to the paper. Apparently satisfied, he smiled before his face bore intensity and a determination as he continued with his task. Unexpectedly, he picked up his handiwork and then offered a hearty laugh that was like a joyous aria that permeated the room.  
  
Candace choked back the tears she felt forming in her eyes as she smiled at the sight of her son. Gary flashed a smile, too, but that smile seemed bittersweet given the shock, confusion, and pain he felt over Candace's announcement.  
  
"Let's sit down." She said to Gary as they both sat down at the kitchen table. Candace took a deep breath before speaking. "Alex is such a special little boy. He has so many wonderful gifts to offer. He's affectionate, loving, and sincere. His eyes...those beautiful eyes just sparkle and melt your heart. And he doesn't laugh often, but when he does, it is the most precious sound in the world; his laughter can make you forget your troubles and your sadness. He just has this way of making you see the beauty in everything and everyone. And I'm not just saying this because I'm his mother."  
  
"I know." He responded.  
  
"That's the cruel irony of Asperger's Syndrome, that someone with Alex's capacity to give love is emotionally isolated from other people, has difficulty communicating with people so he finds comfort and solace in his fixations. That some people will always look at him and all they will be able to see is a disorder that they don't understand and that frightens them. Do you know what the doctors told me? They said that Alex would probably never be able to reach out emotionally to strangers. But they were wrong. Something happened when Alex met you. It was as if his soul had been crying out, but in whispers, and you still heard him. And you were able to reach him, maybe not through your words, but through your touch and through your kindness. He heard you. Alex has connected with you. He trusts you. Spending time with you makes him happy and that makes me happy"  
  
"And I've connected with him, with both of you. You listened to me when I told you those things about Marcia, things that I couldn't even tell my parents or my friends. I know that we haven't known each other very long, but I thought that we were friends. That's why I don't understand why you want to destroy all that."  
  
"Remember the day you met Alex, the day you saved him in the supermarket?"  
  
"Yeah, of course, but..."  
  
"Alex was so overwhelmed by everything that happened that he started crying hysterically and repeatedly called you a bad man. I saw the look on your face, the fear."  
  
"Yeah, I was afraid. I was afraid that you'd think that I was some kind of pervert who had just molested your son. And when that guy pulled out his cell phone and said that he was going to call the police, I was arrested that I would be arrested. My life these past few weeks has been...," he paused briefly to consider his words, "...complicated. I know how things can get misinterpreted. But when we went to that diner and you explained to me why Alex had behaved the way he did, I understood."  
  
"Did you really? Did you really understand?" She challenged. She took a deep breath. "There is so much to AS that you don't know about Gary, so much that you wouldn't understand. And why should I expect you to even want to when Alex's father and grandparents weren't willing to understand. When they...when they walked out of his life. I've comforted Alex when he's cried himself to sleep wondering where his daddy was or when he's awakened from nightmares screaming for his daddy. And I've tried to explain to him why his grandparents don't visit anymore. I've watched the people, who my son has loved, walk out of his life because they couldn't handle his AS. And I've seen already how attached he's grown to you. You told me how complicated your life has been these past few weeks. I know that you're hurting over your divorce and that you're trying to find a way to heal. You have so many other things to deal with that it's not fair to expect or to hope that you'd want to stick around if you were to experience some aspects of AS that are far worse than what happened in that supermarket or that you'd be able to handle it. That's why I think that it would be best for all of us if we end this now before Alex becomes too attached to you, before he gets hurt. I don't know if he could handle someone else he loves walking out of his life. Can't you understand that?"  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"No. No, I can't understand any of this." Gary said, gazing deeply into her eyes. "And it's not me who's afraid here or who can't handle this. It's you. I've listened to everything that you've said. Now I have something to say."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
  
  
Cat had taken refuge underneath the bed when Gary went to open the door for Candace and Alex. And like an interested, yet undetected eavesdropper, Cat had remained there comfortably hidden from human view and scrutiny as he seemingly soaked in the drama unfolding in the room. Now Cat had confidently decided to make his presence known. Consequently, the feline emerged from his hiding place and proceeded to the couch. With one powerful and determined leap, Cat jumped onto the couch positioning himself next to Alex. Alex flinched. The little boy was initially startled and apprehensive of the furry wonderment seated next to him. For a few moments, child and animal studied each other intently. But Cat's instincts were remarkably astute in detecting the innate goodness in people. Subsequently, Cat let out a soft purr before nuzzling closer towards Alex. The purr was almost like a symbolic stamp of approval and a gesture of friendship. His apprehension abated, Alex happily accepted his new friend. He gently stroked Cat's fur, warmth and love emanating from those little fingers. Another special bond had been cemented.  
  
Normally, the Hobson lecture would be in order for the feline's blatant disregard of the edict to stay off of the furniture. Instead, Gary watched the exchange between Cat and Alex with knowing appreciation. He had learned in the past few weeks that this was no ordinary cat so he suspected that Cat's appearance at this precise moment was more than fortuitous. Maybe Cat had an agenda, namely keeping Alex happily entertained so he and Candace could continue their conversation without worrying about inquisitive little eyes and ears.  
  
Gary hesitated briefly before speaking. "I know how much you love Alex, how much you don't want him to be hurt, but don't you see that you would be hurting him even more by banishing me from your lives? What you're afraid of here is not that I'll walk away but that I'll stick around because that would mean that you'd have to learn how to trust again and that's something that you're not ready for yet."  
  
"That's ridiculous." She said defensively.  
  
"No. No, I don't think that it is. I was just thinking...I was just thinking about when you were telling me about the stages of divorce. I remember when you were talking about anger. At the time, I thought that you just meant the anger that a person feels at the person who hurt him. I thought that you were talking about the anger you felt at Alan and my anger towards Marcia. But that isn't the only kind of anger that came out of the divorce. It 's not just Alan that you're angry with, just like it's not just Marcia I'm angry with. You're angry with yourself. Just like I'm angry with myself. Angry because I had given everything I had, everything I am in loving Marcia and that still wasn't enough for her. Angry because I feel like the biggest idiot for imagining a future with a woman who never wanted a future with me. Angry because I was too blind or too stupid not to see all the signs before it was too late. And you want desperately to close off your heart and not to allow anyone in who you might trust and who you believe might hurt you. Believe me, I know what that feels like. I certainly didn't expect that I would meet you and Alex nor did I expect that I would feel this kind of a connection to the two of you so quickly. But I did. And I do. And I don't pretend to understand all that you've been through with Alex's Asperger's..."  
  
"You can just call it AS." She said.  
  
"...with Alex's AS or that I understand everything about it, but I want to. I want to learn and I want to understand. And it's not because I'm a guy with a morbid curiosity or because I feel..." he paused briefly to consider his words, "...that I feel pity for Alex's situation, because I don't. I want to learn because I want to help. And because I care."  
  
Candace listened attentively.  
  
"But I can't tell you that I understand how Alex's father and grandparents could abandon him just because he doesn't live up to some ideal of perfection that they created in their minds because I don't understand that. I'm not even sure that's something I want to understand. And I'm trying not to judge them because no one has the right to judge anyone else. It's just that I was raised to believe that family and friends mean everything. Career and money...those are just things, things that don't really matter and can disappear at any time. But family and friends are irreplaceable. That was something that Marcia never understood and maybe it's something that Alan didn't understand either. Candace, whatever happens with Alex's AS, I can handle it. I won't run away, I swear. I don't run away from the people I care about. Please give me a chance. Please don't shut me out of your lives. Please." He finished, his eyes pleading.  
  
Neither of them heard the patter of little feet as they entered the kitchen. Alex tapped Gary on the knee. Mud green eyes met sapphire eyes as little hands offered their artistic endeavor. Gary picked Alex up, lovingly cradling the little boy on his lap, as he looked at Alex's work in the Peter Pan coloring book. The page exploded with colorful images of the little lost boys.  
  
"Is this for me?" Gary asked.  
  
Alex nodded. "A present."  
  
Gary smiled. "This is beautiful." He complimented. "Thank you." Alex smiled at the praise before placing his tiny hands on Gary's face. A shower of kisses that he rained on Gary's cheek followed his touch. Tears welled in Candace's eyes.  
  
In that moment, two lost boys, a gentle but misunderstood hero and a special yet misunderstood child, knew that they had found a lasting home in each other's hearts.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-Three  
  
The sun smiled all over Chicago in these early morning hours, flashing a healthy dose of its rays and inspiring an optimism that seemed contagious. And surprisingly, the unseasonably warm temperatures seemed to mirror the unseasonably warm temperaments, as people on the street were pleasant to each other with their "good mornings" and "have a nice days." In addition, several unnamed saviors appeared willing to assist a motorist in distress with an unexpected flat tire.  
  
And it was even a great day to be a hero.  
  
Perhaps The Paper was taking advantage of the marvelous weather, too, for the stories were simple saves requiring minimal effort. But the people he saved were appreciative saying a usually unheard of "thank you" that, although shocked by the expression of gratitude, he reciprocated with a "you're welcome." As he walked down the Chicago streets, he found himself whistling. Maybe today was just a continuation of the previous night, the joyous sequel to a rapturous beginning. He would have never expected what happened last night to happen. At this moment, the smile on his face over the memory spoke volumes.  
  
He certainly hadn't felt like smiling when Candace announced that she didn't think that she and Alex should see him anymore. He never saw that one coming. Yet, he refused to accept her decision. That was his problem in the past, he was always accepting of decisions that impinged on his life that others made unilaterally but that ended up causing him pain. He wouldn't fight, but instead would go off somewhere to lick his wounds. Last night was different...he was going to fight. He could understand that Candace was scared, but he was determined to make her see that severing ties with him now just as this special bond was taking root between the three of them, would be the worst possible thing she could do to all of them, especially to Alex. She had said that Alex's soul had cried out for him, but in whispers that he had heard. If he was somehow Alex's emotional lifeline, the human connection that had jolted the little boy out of an emotional exile and a reliance on inanimate objects for comfort and reassurance, how could she sever that lifeline? It wasn't easy convincing Candace to believe that he would not walk away from Alex if he were to experience the darker aspects of Asperger's Syndrome, to pierce through her veil of mistrust and suspicion. He could see that she was wavering about giving him a chance to prove his sincerity. But when Alex had entered the kitchen with his coloring book, his work of art that became a gift from his little heart, Gary knew that her son's actions had a profound affect on Candace. He knew that her love for Alex wouldn't allow her to destroy so powerful a connection because of her own fears.  
  
Well, his soul must have been crying out for them too because just spending time with them was exactly what he needed. Last night, he watched, smiled, and offered praise as Alex continued coloring. Alex smiled, too, that wonderful heart warming smile of his that could melt a glacier. Candace appeared to be silently studying the interaction between him and her son. Finally, when she told Alex that it was time to leave, the child protested profusely. Instead, Alex took Gary by the hand and led him over to the couch. Gary was puzzled until Alex indicated that he wanted to watch television. Gary glanced at Candace who seemed to be choking back tears. She told him that Alex wanted to watch "Rugrats." Gary couldn't understand why Candace was so emotional over a cartoon until she explained that "Rugrats" was Alex's favorite cartoon. The fact that the little boy wanted to share this cartoon with Gary was symbolic, the further evidence that he was allowing Gary into his world. So they all sat on the couch. Candace was seated on Gary's left while Alex sat on Gary's lap. As Angelica and Tommy paraded across the screen, their voices and mannerisms perhaps grating except to the aficionado, Alex snuggled comfortably in Gary's lap. He giggled over the "Rugrats" antics. And when Gary also laughed, Alex looked up at him. His sapphire eyes twinkled in merriment. Almost like a family shutting out the insanity of the world and cleaving to the breast of their love for each other and the warmth of sharing life's blessings, they watched television together for a long time until the heaviness of Alex's body felt like dead weight against Gary's chest. The exhausted little boy had fallen asleep.  
  
Candace had asked to use the phone so that she could call for a cab, but Gary remarked that he was worried about her going home in the dark with a sleeping child in her arms. He invited her to spend the night in his room. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, he quickly amended his invitation telling her that it came without strings. She and Alex could take his bed while he would sleep on the couch. She thanked him, but turned down his invitation. While she appreciated his concern and kindness, she wanted Alex to sleep in his own bed. Further, she didn't want to confuse or upset Alex if he experienced a nightmare and awoke in a strange place. As she proceeded to the phone, he reminded her that he still wanted to take them to Navy Pier. He wasn't quite sure why he said what he said next, but he added that if she didn't have any plans and his scheduled permitted, he'd like to take them to Navy Pier tomorrow. She briefly hesitated before reiterating that she and Alex would like that. Removing a slip of paper and pen from her purse, she jotted down her address and phone number.  
  
He insisted on waiting with them downstairs until the cab arrived. He gently picked Alex off of the couch and cradled the little boy in his arms as they left the room and walked the hallway towards the elevator. In the elevator, Alex stirred slightly in Gary's arms but remained asleep. Once downstairs they only waited two minutes for the cab to arrive. She took Alex from his arms. Before leaving, she thanked him again. Looking deeply into his eyes, she said, "You're a special man, Gary Hobson. I've never met anyone like you." Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek.  
  
He felt something.  
  
He watched as she and Alex got into the cab and the cab pulled away.  
  
And this morning it appeared that The Paper had only a few stories for him to handle and that he would be finished by 11:00 a.m. He had called Candace and told her that he would stop by her apartment to pick them up around 11:30. She seemed thrilled and she said that Alex was very excited.  
  
As he continued walking down the street whistling happily while soaking in the sights, he was blissfully unaware how his plans were about to change.  
  
Chapter Twenty-Four  
  
He took a pregnant pause and inhaled allowing the air to caress his lungs. Then he exhaled. And he smiled. The air may have been laced with the typical pollutant of a large metropolis, smog, but at that moment he didn't seem to notice. What the air represented to him was liberation, the kind of liberation he knew growing up in a small town community like Hickory, Indiana.  
  
It was 11:10 a.m. and he was finished with his last save of the day and on his way to pick up Candace and Alex to take them to Navy Pier. For the rest of the day, he would not be a prisoner to Fate, to responsibility. He would not be a prisoner to cynicism nor ingratitude. He would not be a reluctant hero, the guy who gets The Paper. He would just be a regular guy like all those other regular guys out there. But in a way, he would be luckier than most guys he saw today. He watched those guys with their double-breasted suits and brief cases, with their cell phones pressed to their ears like necessary appendages. He saw how their faces became flushed with anger as they bellowed orders to some unseen and unheard of soul on the other end of the phone line who had the misfortune of being the vessel for their fury. These guys appeared to be following their own commandments, words ingrained on their psyche that told them that they were slaves to the diaphanous mentality of status and prestige. They were the proverbial rats on a never-ending wheel towards professional success, constantly running, afraid to stop. In their minds, they had to keep running, running fast and furious, or else be dethroned by individuals more eager and hungrier for the trappings of material wealth. And at the end of the day, they were so tired of the running yet couldn't understand why they felt empty and unfulfilled inside. They were always running and always searching for something that they thought would make them happy, something that didn't really matter. Marcia wanted him to be one of those guys. She never understood.  
  
Happiness for him was never about money. It was never about a big house or a flashy car. Happiness was about spending time and building memories with the people he loved. It was about laughter and smiles. It was about things that he couldn't touch but that instead touched him. Growing up this belief was what his parents had taught him by their example.  
  
He was really looking forward to spending this time at Navy Pier with Candace and Alex. While he wanted to give them a good time, he realized that he needed this day as much as they did. He remembered the time when he was seven years old when one night over supper Dad announced plans for a family excursion to the amusement park the next day. Dad glanced at Mom and she smiled as they watched how the revelation of their shared conspiracy lit their son's face brighter than a Christmas tree. Then Mom would playfully scold him telling him that he wouldn't be able to go unless he finished his lima beans. Of course, until this day, he suspected that Mom would have never had the heart to follow through with her threat. Nonetheless, he cleaned off his plate. And that night he could barely sleep because he was so excited. It seemed if it took forever for morning to arrive. The following morning Mom made the best breakfast. That was always her non-negotiable stipulation: he was to have a nutritious breakfast. She was always a mother first. She made eggs, bacon, grits, blueberry pancakes, fresh fruit, and toast. Dad teased her about acting like they couldn't get food while at the amusement park. She countered with a "I won't have my boy filling up on junk." Of course, Dad always convinced her to allow him to have cotton candy, Cracker Jack, hot dogs, and soda. He remembered looking up at the roller coaster and hearing the excited screams of the riders. The high, large, and fast monster held those riders hostage, but they didn't seem to care. He watched wide-eyed, his expressive mud green eyes both curious and afraid. Dad knew that he was terrified of heights so Dad never pushed him to conquer that monster. Instead, they enjoyed other rides. And they played one of those games where you took a baseball and had to hit down all the bottles in order to win a prize. Mom and Dad were good, sort of, even if they left two bottles and one bottle, respectively, standing. But he was able to knock down all the bottles and pick the prize he wanted, some huge stuffed toy. It wasn't the toy that mattered to him, but how Mom and Dad swelled with pride telling anyone within earshot about how their son had a great arm. They acted as if he had hit an untold number of home runs in the World Series. And he ended up eating too much cotton candy and getting sick. Still, it was the best day of his life, a wonderful memory that was his buoy when as an adult he faced heartache.  
  
That was the kind of memory that he wanted to give Alex today. Yet, he tried to ignore that tiny, irritating little voice in the back of his head, that voice that sounded awfully like Chuck's, a harbinger of doom and gloom warning him that he was acting like Alex's daddy not the child's friend. That voice kept telling him that he was the one who was going to end up getting hurt.  
  
He was so entranced by his childhood memories and the opportunity at being a part of creating wonderful memories for a special little boy that he almost didn't see the young woman who approached him. She was frantic, between fitful cries and a sea of incomprehensible phrases, she tried desperately to get him to understand her. He recognized the language as Spanish and silently cursed himself for not paying more attention all those years ago in high school Spanish class. However, he couldn't help but pay attention to the huge gash on her right arm and the blood seeping violently from the wound, the unencumbered blood that had quickly dyed the white sleeve of her blouse a reddish hue. She shivered uncontrollably. Instinctively, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her to prevent her from going into shock. He needed to get her to a hospital. A few cabs passed them before one finally stopped. He told the cab that they needed to get to the emergency room of Columbia General Hospital. The time was 11:20 a.m.  
  
Maybe The Paper had a reason for being unexpectedly mute in foretelling this save. His selfless act would save a woman's life, but end up breaking a little boy's heart.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-Five  
  
Pain and suffering know no bias. They don't discriminate based on race, sex, age, religion, or socioeconomic status. They are an equal opportunity affiliation. And often, they are agents of Death. Death certainly harbored no prejudice. It lay in wait poised to strike anyone at any time. Yet, sometimes it is possible to cheat Death, especially if you're a guy who gets tomorrow's newspaper today.  
  
The emergency room of Columbia General Hospital was a waiting room for misery. And today it seemed as if all of Chicago had received an invitation. The tiny space was jammed, its victims packed as if they were a school of sardines captured in a small tin can. The sights, sounds, and smells spoke of sickness. The wail of a baby flooded the room. The young teenage mother no more than fifteen years old (just a baby herself) gently rocked her daughter, but the movement failed to appease the infant. A man in his early twenties sported a bump on his forehead the size of a silver dollar, the result of his forehead coming in contact with an overly enthusiastic flying hockey puck. A woman, about seven or eight months pregnant, held her husband's hand and listened to his comforting words about how their baby was going to be okay. And the young Spanish woman with a menacing gash on her arm continued to wait even after nearly an hour.  
  
Gary had done his best trying to calm the woman. He was still having difficulty understanding her, however between unrecognizable phrases he had learned that her name was Pilar Ramirez. Still, he was unable to ascertain how she had been injured. Further, a quick scan of The Paper proved futile.  
  
Gary watched as several Caucasians with arguably less serious ailments had entered the emergency room after him and Pilar had, but were seen by the doctors while Pilar continued to wait. He tried desperately to dismiss the troubling thoughts swirling around in his head over why Pilar had yet to receive medical treatment. Finally, when over an hour of waiting had passed, his ire had reached the boiling point. He rose from his seat. Pilar tugged at his jacket, her eyes communicating to him that she was frightened that he was leaving her. He wasn't sure if she understood him, but he explained that he wasn't leaving, that he was just going to the front desk to speak with the on duty nurse. He approached the nurse at the desk and politely asked her when Pilar would be able to see a doctor. The cantankerous nurse, a woman who appeared to be in her early forties with bottle cap glasses and short salt and pepper hair, glanced at Pilar before telling him that Pilar would just have to wait her turn. Then he heard the nurse mumble something about "charity cases". Those usually gentle mud green eyes became ablaze with anger. Prejudice had reared its ugly head. While he knew that bigotry existed (had witnessed some of the struggles Marissa endured at Strauss and Associates as both blind and African- American), he needed to believe that such attitudes were the misguided opinions of the truly ignorant, an insulated portion of society that didn't reflect the mainstream.  
  
The Paper had gifted him with the power to change the future. If only a futuristic newspaper offered the recipe for eradicating prejudice. This time he forcefully demanded that Pilar receive medical attention immediately. The nurse threatened him, said that she would call the police because of his "violent display". Refusing to be intimidated, he challenged her to make that call but also countered by threatening to call the media. She glared at him and he swallowed hard as he watched her pick up the phone and dial a number.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The little bird in the cuckoo clock on the living room wall seemed sentenced to its never-ending song to mark time. Alex's gaze fixated on that little bird seemingly mesmerized that the bird was trapped in it own insanity. Yet, the bird appeared to understand its purpose in the scheme of things. The child could tell time yet he continued staring at the little bird as if he were silently willing it to make Gary miraculously appear. Mommy told him that Gary would be there soon. And Gary promised...Gary promised that he would take them to Navy Pier today. Alex had been waiting such a long time. Still, there had been no Gary. And every car pulling up to the curb, every faint voice heard outside (nearing the brownstone where Candace and Alex occupied a first floor apartment) and every knock on the front door inspired excitement then disappointment for the little boy. It had to be Gary, only each time he discovered that it wasn't. Mommy said that Gary would be there soon. And Gary promised that he would take them to Navy Pier.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome had not robbed Alex of his intellectual acumen; it was only his socialization and communication skills and his emotional development that had been compromised by the disorder.  
  
Candace was in the kitchen preparing dinner. It wasn't that she needed to start cooking dinner at 3:00 p.m., but cooking was always therapeutic for her. When 11:30 came, she watched Alex leave the living room where he had been watching television and proceed to the front door. He stood there quietly, almost reverently, as if he were one of those emotionless soldiers outside Buckingham Palace awaiting a return of The Queen. His little heart pounded in eager anticipation. But Gary hadn't arrived. And when another half-hour had passed she worried that in her haste last night she had given Gary the wrong address and phone number. She had even called The Blackstone just in case, but was told that he was unavailable. As the hours passed, she grew worried that he may have gotten into an accident. She called hospitals, but none of them seemed to have information on an accident victim named Gary Hobson. Never once had she entertained the notion that he had cruelly and intentionally disappointed Alex. Not Gary. Not the wonderful man who had made such a fervent plea last night for her to give him a chance because he wouldn't walk away from Alex regardless of what he discovered about Asperger's Syndrome.  
  
Not Gary. There had to be an explanation why he hadn't shown up.  
  
The patter of little feet on the hardwood kitchen floor shook Candace from her reverie.  
  
"Mommy?" The little voice whispered.  
  
She turned around. That little face was so despondent but he bravely fought back his tears. But disappointment proved the greater foe that opened the floodgates to heartache. A moment later, an army of tears fled from vulnerable sapphire eyes.  
  
She rushed to him enveloping him in a hug as he began to cry. "Mommy? Where's Gary? He promised, Mommy. He promised."  
  
She didn't have an answer. All she could do was hold him tightly and comfort him as he sobbed in her arms.  
  
Chapter Twenty-Six  
  
It was nearly 5:00 p.m. when Gary finally left Columbia General Hospital and made his way towards Candace's apartment. He agonized over how he was going to explain to Candace why he hadn't shown up as promised to take her and Alex to Navy Pier. Candace must think that he is a first-class jerk. After pleading with her last night about giving him a chance, she must be thinking that he is the scum of the earth to break a promise to her and to Alex. Alex...his heart ached over realizing what Alex must be feeling and thinking about him. God, how was he ever going to get them to forgive him? They both probably wanted nothing else to do with him.  
  
But he had no choice. He couldn't just leave Pilar there in the hospital, hurt and at the mercy of an intolerant medical system. He had bluffed that nurse when he challenged her to call the police and she had taken his bluff. Two very unpleasant looking cops showed up at the hospital emergency room. The nurse told them that he had threatened her and that his behavior made her concerned for the welfare of the other patients. He told them that was a lie, countering by explaining that he just wanted a friend of his who had been waiting a long time to receive medical attention. He could see that the cops didn't believe him. He braced himself for another arrest until several patients who had overheard the exchange between him and "Nurse Cruella DeVille" came to his defense and backed up his story. Soon, a young doctor appeared at the front desk. After learning what happened, the doctor told the police that everything was under control. The police were justifiably annoyed at having been unnecessarily called. The doctor thanked them for their quick attention, apologized to him, and upbraided the nurse who slivered away humiliated. Then the doctor treated Pilar's injury. Fortunately, the doctor knew more Spanish than he had and was able to ascertain how the young woman had sustained injury. A sewing mishap. The doctor had assumed that he was Pilar's husband and when he informed that he wasn't the doctor asked Pilar for the name of a relative that they could call. She asked him to call her husband, Lorenzo Ramirez.  
  
It took another hour before Lorenzo Ramirez arrived at the hospital with a small boy in tow. Mr. Ramirez was American born but of Spanish descent. After thanking Gary for helping his wife, Lorenzo introduced Gary to the little boy who stood next to him. The child's name was Tomas and he was Lorenzo and Pilar's son. Like Alex, Tomas was a beautiful little boy with dark hair who appeared to be about six or seven years old. However, unlike Alex, Tomas' eyes were brown. Gary smiled at Tomas and offered his hand. But the child didn't accept the handshake. Instead, Tomas stared intently at Gary's watch, his eyes fixated on the shiny object. Tomas seemed mesmerized by that watch, studying it for what seemed like a very long time. It wasn't until Lorenzo gently prodded his son telling the little boy that it was time to go that whatever spell the watch had over Tomas, whatever powerful allure that such an inanimate object had in capturing the child's attention, was broken.  
  
After Lorenzo, Pilar, and Tomas left the hospital, Gary had considered calling Candace, apologizing over the phone, and then asking if he could come over and explain, but he was afraid that she would just hang up on him. So instead, he left the hospital without making that call. But on the way over to her apartment, he stopped at a toy store and bought Alex a remote control truck. He also stopped at a florist and purchased a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses for Candace.  
  
Gary swallowed hard as he walked the path towards the brownstone situated on a well-manicured street. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door.  
  
"Who is it?" The familiar female voice asked.  
  
"It's Gary."  
  
There was a brief silence before the door slowly opened. Candace stood at the door, her eyes looked sad and disappointed but not unforgiving. He prayed that she would hear him out.  
  
"May I come in?" He asked sheepishly.  
  
She nodded. He entered the apartment. She closed the door behind him.  
  
He handed her the roses. " These are for you." He began. "Look, Candace. I...I want to apologize. I was on my way over here when something happened, something that I didn't expect. Will you let me explain?"  
  
Her silence was only a moment, a brief second really, a tiny thread of time, but in Gary's mind it was a torturous eternity. Visions of an opened window, a flying suitcase, and a slew of unanswered phone calls assaulted his mind. He prepared himself for rejection.  
  
However, before Candace had a chance to answer, a tiny voice appeared in the room.  
  
"Mommy, I'm hungry."  
  
Gary turned around. Mud green eyes locked with vulnerable and very hurt sapphire eyes.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-Seven  
  
Alex didn't speak. Not with words, anyway. But the sadness and anger portrayed in the little boy's eyes were loud, painful utterances heard by the hero. And at this moment, Gary felt as if he were back in that supermarket, the "bad man" of a child's nightmare.  
  
"Alex, buddy, let me explain." Gary pleaded.  
  
But Alex didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and fled into his room.  
  
"Alex, honey!" Candace called out. She ran after her son to comfort him.  
  
Maybe he should have just leave, allow Candace this time alone with Alex, call tomorrow and apologize. Maybe his words will be easier for both of them to hear after a good night's sleep. But somehow he knew that if he walked out of that door now any hope that he had of continuing this special relationship would be lost forever. So instead he followed Candace into Alex's room.  
  
He stood at the door for a moment and drank in the scene. Candace sat on Alex's bed while Alex sat on her lap, his face buried against her chest as she gently rocked him back and forth and soothed him with her words.  
  
"Candace." He said softly. Both mother and son looked at him from their bonding moment. Alex's tear-stained face tore at Gary's chest. "May I talk to him?" Gary asked.  
  
For a minute, Candace appeared reluctant to surrender this moment to him. And Alex seemed as if he were holding his mother tightly, as if he were afraid to let go of her. Candace gazed into Alex's eyes. She smoothed his hair, kissed his forehead, and then gently placed him on his bed. She proceeded to where Gary was standing at the door and motioned for him to enter the room.  
  
"Thank you." Gary said to her before he proceeded towards the bed and sat down next to Alex. Defiantly, Alex turned his back towards Gary.  
  
The bedroom was a wonderful flight into a child's fantasy. The small bed, with navy blue sheets, was shaped like a car. A little yellow train competed for space on a wooden bookcase that overflowed with Rugrats and Blues Clues books. Peter Pan wallpaper adorned the wall offering a visual escape into Never Land. Peter Pan, the Darling children, and Tinkerbell fed a child's imagination and represented a safe retreat into a world where one didn't have to grow up, be judged, or feel different. It was a world where goodness could defeat the fiercest pirates and where a child could fly unencumbered, fly as high as his mind and heart would take him. Fly forever, safe, free, and happy.  
  
"Alex, I bought you something." Gary revealed.  
  
No answer.  
  
"It's a remote control truck." He began awkwardly. "When I was a kid, I loved trucks. I had to have every kind of truck there was. My mom would complain that she'd always trip over my trucks when she came into my room. But this truck is a lot cooler than any of the trucks I had growing up. See you just take this box attached to the truck and move these buttons and you can make the truck go fast or slow, do anything you want."  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"I'll just leave it here for you and you can play with it later." Gary added. He placed the truck on the bed.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Look, Alex, I know that you're very angry with me because I promised to take you to Navy Pier today and I broke my promise. You have every right to be angry. No one should ever break a promise. And I'm very sorry. But I never wanted to break that promise, to hurt you, to make you feel angry or sad. Sometimes...sometimes people make promises and they want to keep them more than anything in the world, but they can't because something happens that they didn't expect to happen and that they had no control over. When I was walking down the street to come over here, there was a lady who hurt her arm and needed to go to the hospital so that the doctors could make her feel all better. She couldn't find anyone to help her so she came up to me. She was crying because she was hurt and scared. You should always help people who need help if you can. So I took her to the hospital so the doctors could help her. But there were a lot of people at the hospital who were sick and hurt and waiting for doctors to make them feel better. And I couldn't just leave her by herself when she was hurt and scared so I waited with her. It took a very long time for a doctor to come and make her feel better. I'm glad that I was able to be with her when she was hurt and scared and to make sure that she saw her. But I'm very sad that I missed going to Navy Pier today with you and your mom because I know how much you wanted that. But you want to know a secret? I wanted to go to Navy Pier with you and your Mom more than anything, too. All last night I couldn't sleep because I was so excited about us going to Navy Pier. You know how you feel the night before Christmas when you're so excited that you can't sleep but you know that you have to sleep or else Santa Claus won't be able to come to your house and bring your presents? That's the way I felt. And you know how you feel when you wake up Christmas morning and you know that your presents are waiting for you? That's the way I felt when I was walking over here. I was so happy and excited because I was looking forward to spending the day with you and your mom. Navy Pier was something special that I wanted to share with you and your mom." Gary paused briefly to collect his thoughts. Alex was still very quiet and the little boy still had his back towards the hero.  
  
Gary wasn't sure if Alex understood anything he said but he continued anyway. "Remember when you gave me the picture you colored and when you wanted me to watch Rugrats with you? I was happy about that, too, because these were special things that meant a lot to you that you wanted to share with me. And when you care about someone, Alex, when you care about a person, you want to share the special moments of your life. You want to see them smile and you want to smile with them."  
  
Still silent.  
  
Gary rose from the bed, his mud green eyes glazed over with sadness at the realization that he had been unable to reach Alex.  
  
"Well, I'll be going now. I am very sorry for breaking my promise. I hope that you will forgive me and give me another chance because...because I love you, Alex." With those final words, Gary proceeded to the door.  
  
"Gary." The tiny voice finally whispered.  
  
Gary turned back around. Alex slid off the bed and walked towards Gary. The little boy looked up at the giant man with an equally gigantic heart. Then Alex said the words that Gary never expected to hear the words that caressed his heart and touched him more deeply than any words he had ever heard.  
  
"I love you, Gary."  
  
Instinctively, Gary hoisted Alex into his arms. The little boy planted kisses on Gary's cheek before hugging Gary tightly. Candace stood at the door, happy tears glistening in her eyes witnessing the scene between Gary and Alex.  
  
Two souls had cried out to each other, in whispers, but in the silent echoes their hearts found the words.  
  
Chapter Twenty-Eight  
  
  
  
The two "boys" sat on the bedroom floor as the remote control truck whirled fervently pass them.  
  
It seemed like Gary had held Alex for an eternity. But finally, the little boy began squirming in his arms and Gary sensed that Alex wanted to be put down. Gary was ready to say his good byes and leave until Alex insisted that he wanted Gary to stay and play with his toys. Gary looked to Candace for confirmation. Her smile signaled her agreement. She also asked Gary whether he would like to stay for dinner. Now it was his turn to smile as he willingly accepted the invitation. Consequently, Candace disappeared into the kitchen while Alex led Gary by the hand. He wanted to "introduce" Gary to his toys. Gary met all of Alex's stuffed animals. When Gary questioned why a teddy bear with big brown eyes sat alone in a corner away from all the other toys, Alex revealed that Mr. Bear was very sad. Mr. Bear has been very sad ever since Daddy left and Mr. Bear heard Mommy crying. Mr. Bear wanted Mommy not to feel sad anymore about Daddy going away and Mommy stopped crying, but she was still very sad. And that made Mr. Bear very sad, so sad that he didn't want to be around all the other toys. They wouldn't understand.  
  
The honest expression of Alex's heartache had caught Gary off guard. He had heard a long time ago that children of divorce sometimes project their feelings of abandonment and rejection by using their toys as reflections of themselves. And he remembered that Candace remarked how emotionally attuned Alex was to her. Asperger's Syndrome may have erected an emotional barrier between Alex and the outside world, with walls desperately needing to be torn down, but mother and son had no difficulty communicating the depths of their feelings to each other. Even in their silence, Alex and Candace heard each other clearly.  
  
Without warning, Alex had picked up Mr. Bear and handed him to Gary. Alex told Mr. Bear that he didn't need to be sad anymore because Gary made Mommy smile. Mommy wasn't going to be sad anymore. Now Mr. Bear could smile, too.  
  
Afterwards, Alex removed some of his little figures from the shelf, took the remote control truck, and motioned for Gary to sit on the floor with him. Alex gave Gary his "Superman" figure. Alex explained that Gary was "Superman" and he was supposed to fly in and save the people who were trapped in the truck that was about to crash into the bed. He told Gary that "Superman" always saved people because he was a hero. They played on the floor with that truck for what seemed like a long time as "Superman" rescued all the people who were in danger. In the midst of their playing, Alex looked up at Gary with those beautiful, expressive sapphire eyes of his and asked Gary if the lady who hurt her arm was really okay. Gary smiled at the little boy and confirmed that she was fine, that the doctor was able to make her all better. Alex returned the smile and said that he was happy that the lady was better and that he was happy that Gary was able to "save" her. Then he added that Gary was a better hero than "Superman"  
  
The sound of Candace's voice ended playtime. She told them that dinner was ready and that they needed to wash up. After their task was completed, Gary and Alex left Alex's bedroom and proceeded to the dining room. Mud green and sapphire eyes widened and two noses crinkled in sheer panic when they saw what vegetables shared space on the plate next to the meat loaf and mashed potatoes smothered in butter. Lima beans. Disgusting lima beans. An army of disgusting lima beans mocking them on the plate and holding the "good" food hostage.  
  
Oh Boy.  
  
"Mommy."  
  
Candace seemed amused by both Gary and Alex's expressions. "Lima beans are good for you so I expect you to eat all of them off your plate. Both of you." She said sternly. Gary and Alex exchanged worried glances. Candace realized that she had forgotten the pitcher of milk so she hurried back into the kitchen. Alex flashed Gary a tormented look. The little boy really hated lima beans and he didn't want to eat them.  
  
Gary understood. He, too, had hated lima beans for as long as he could remember. Lima beans had to be some form of parental torture!  
  
Those sapphire eyes were pleading. Gary swallowed hard. He was a hero after all, even without The Paper, even better than "Superman" according to Alex. Without saying another word, he took a big spoonful of Alex's lima beans and ate them. He washed the offending vegetables down with water. Then he repeated the "punishment" with three more spoonfuls until all of Alex's lima beans were gone. Alex giggled at the funny face Gary made as the lima beans corroded his throat. The giggles stopped when Candace entered the room. She eyed both Gary and Alex suspiciously. They offered twin puppy dog looks feigning innocence over their conspiracy.  
  
The dinner, sans lima beans, was wonderful followed by an equally glorious dessert- Candace's homemade cheese cake. After they finished eating, Alex and Gary resumed playing in his room. An hour later, Candace informed Alex that it was time for him to go to bed. Before Alex could protest, Gary promised to read him a story.  
  
"Peter Pan." Alex requested.  
  
"Peter Pan it is." Gary responded.  
  
The "Peter Pan" book occupied a position of honor on the night stand by the bed. The spine was a bit worn, the result of constant and loving handling by mother and son. After Gary supervised Alex brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, he tucked the little boy in bed. He opened the book to where a book mark held its place and began reading:  
  
"Second to the right, and straight on till morning. That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; but even birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said anything that came into his head. At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were the delights of flying that they wasted time circling round church spires or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy."  
  
Alex listened attentively attempting to suppress a chorus of yawns and heavy eyelids fighting the Sandman.  
  
Gary continued reading. "John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start. They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they had thought themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round a room. Not long ago. But how long ago? They were flying over the sea before this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John thought it was their second sea and their third night. Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now they were very cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at times, or were they merely pretending, because Peter had such a jolly new way of feeding them? His way was to pursue birds who had food in their mouths suitable for humans and snatch it from them; then the birds would follow and snatch it back; and they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of good-will. But Wendy noticed with gentle concern that Peter did not seem to know that this was rather an odd way of getting your bread and butter, nor even that there are other ways. Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were..."  
  
He glanced at Alex. The little boy had fallen asleep. Gary smiled. He closed the book, placed it on the night stand, and kissed Alex on the forehead before turning off the lights.  
  
That night Alex slept peacefully. And finally Mr. Bear did too.  
  
Chapter Twenty-Nine  
  
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tantalized his nostrils as he entered the kitchen.  
  
"I guess that I'm not the only one who can make good coffee." He complimented. She turned around from the stove and smiled at him. He sat down at the table. She walked over to him and placed two cups on the table. A few moments later, she carried the coffee pot over to the table.  
  
"Black, right?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
She poured two cups of coffee then sat down at the table across from him. She took a sip from his cup.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Thank you." He said.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For not slamming the door in my face when I came here tonight. For being willing to hear me out. For allowing me to explain things to you and Alex. I never meant to hurt either of you. You know that, right?"  
  
"Yes. Even when I didn't know what happened, why you didn't show up here like you promised, I knew that there had to be a reasonable explanation. I...I knew that after everything you said last night that you wouldn't just walk away."  
  
"No, I wouldn't."  
  
"And you were right before about what you said about me being afraid to trust especially after Alan and the Millers walking out of Alex's life. And because of my own fears, I almost deprived my son of someone special. I love Alex more than I ever thought that it was possible to love anyone. I would have never forgiven myself if I had allowed my fears to destroy the bond that the two of you share. I mean, who else would have eaten all of Alex's lima beans when from your expression as you entered the room and saw them on the plate, I could tell how much you hate them."  
  
Gary blushed slightly. "You knew about that?"  
  
Candace laughed. "Of course I did. Alex is never that quick eating his vegetables. And I wasn't fooled for a moment by those innocent expressions."  
  
"Well, it was the least I could do after disappointing him today. You know I have to ask- why do mothers think that lima beans are so good for their kids anyway? My mom was the same way."  
  
"Because they are." Candace said without further explanation.  
  
"Uh-huh. That's the same thing my mom said. She didn't have a good reason, either."  
  
Candace laughed again over Gary's comment. However, a moment later, her expression turned serious. "How is that woman you helped? Is she going to be okay?"  
  
"Pilar? Yes, she's going to be fine. I really didn't expect that, I mean, that she would stop me on the street like that. She's Spanish and I'm not sure whether she knows any English. I had such a hard time understanding her, but when I saw the bad gash on her arm, I knew that I had to get her to the hospital. She was crying and I knew that she had to be scared. It must have taken a lot of faith for her to trust me to help her, to trust a stranger. When we arrived at the hospital, it was packed. We waited for a very long time to see a doctor. Then several other people entered the hospital after we did. They didn't look like they were as badly hurt as Pilar and it bothered me that the nurse at the front desk would have a doctor see them first. I thought...well, I figured that I would ask her when Pilar could see the doctor. But she looked at Pilar and then said in a very nasty tone that Pilar would have to wait her turn. Then she mumbled something about charity cases and those people. I hadn't planned to cause a scene, but her comment surprised me. It probably shouldn't have. I mean, I know that it's out there, prejudice, and that I can't change people's attitudes, but I just felt..."  
  
"Angry? Helpless? Like maybe you wanted to shake some sense into that nurse? I know. Believe me, I've been there. There are other kinds of prejudice besides for judging someone based on the color of their skin, Gary. I've seen the prejudice that Alex has had to face because he has AS. I've seen what happens when I'm out with him and he's having a meltdown."  
  
"A meltdown?"  
  
"Yes. It results from his AS. That's what I call it when he becomes so overwhelmed by outside stimuli that he can't handle it anymore. He'll lay down on the floor and begin crying hysterically. And...and when he's suffering like that..."Candace paused briefly as her words became choked under weighty emotion, "...when I see him suffering like that, it's as if I'm having the meltdown. I'll hold him as close as I can and try to comfort him. I guess subconsciously I'm hoping that I can take away his pain by holding him so close. I've prayed that God would give me his pain instead so he wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I've seen how some people look at him, the cruelty in their eyes as if they believe that he should be locked up in some institution. And I've had some people tell me that I should spank him to get him to behave in public. They don't know me. They don't know him. Yet, they have unfairly labeled him as a spoiled, willful child deserving of punishment. I want to just dismiss people like that as ignorant, as idiots who believe that they have a right to judge my son. When I was little, Nana used to tell me to just ignore people like that because they weren't worth the energy it took trying to understand them. She'd say that I'd make myself sick thinking about changing their attitudes when they couldn't be changed. But it's different with Alex and I do worry. I worry about what kind of affect other people's words and actions will have on him when he gets older."  
  
"I wish that there was something I could do to make sure that he never had to experience any kind of ridicule." Gary said sincerely.  
  
Candace smiled at him. "I know that you do. And that means more to me than you realize; the fact that you love Alex. But you can't save the world, Gary, and you don't know what the future holds. It's not like you can swallow prejudice and make it all go away like those lima beans."  
  
"That's a job that would be too big for even Superman."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was just thinking about something Alex said to me when we were playing in his room. He handed me his Superman action figure and said that I could be Superman and rescue all the figures he placed in the truck that I bought him that were going to be hurt when the truck crashed. Then he looked up at me and asked about Pilar and he said that I was a better hero than Superman."  
  
Unexpectedly, Candace rose from her seat. She walked over to the sink, her back towards Gary. He was puzzled by her actions then alarmed when she turned around and he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. A few tears escaped from her eyes and fled down her cheek.  
  
He rose from his seat and quickly proceeded to where she was standing. "What's wrong?" He asked concerned.  
  
"No, it's just that...Alex has had those figures for almost a year now. Alan bought them. But Alex has never played with them before. Alan even tried once to role-play with Alex hoping to spark Alex's imagination, but nothing happened. I know that Alan got very frustrated as if this was another reminder for him how Alex would never be normal in his eyes. I remember Janet telling me that some children with AS never role-play with their action figures. They just lack the imagination. I know that she wanted me to be prepared in case this happened to Alex. But tonight...with you...it's just...Gary, you have been able to reach him and touch him in such a short time in a way that no one else has."  
  
Gary didn't answer. Instead, he gazed deeply into her eyes. She was such a strong woman, but she was very vulnerable, too. And she was beautiful. Very beautiful. Her vulnerability tonight only served to awaken that beauty. Standing in her kitchen so closely next to her, he just felt...  
  
What he did next surprised both of them. He gently cupped her face then kissed her tenderly on the lips.  
  
Chapter Thirty  
  
His kiss left her breathless.  
  
It wasn't one of those steamy kind of kisses, the kind of kiss that you see in the movies that is so hungry that it leaves a man and a woman sweaty with desire. That kind of kiss is about taking, about pulsating hearts exuding a raw sexuality and a desperate physical need with no thought of tomorrow. No, this kiss was about giving. It was a quiet kiss, tender, and understated. It was almost apologetic yet hopeful that it offered the promise of something special and enduring.  
  
Their lips parted. They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, but their silence enveloped the room.  
  
Mud green eyes studied her. She truly was beautiful, both inside and out. She had allowed him to look into her heart by sharing her stories about Alex. She had every reason to be jaded, to be angry and bitter at her ex- husband, in-laws, and at the hand that Fate had dealt her, but she wasn't. Instead of focusing her energies on anger and bitterness, she concentrated them exclusively on Alex's well being at making sure that her son was happy and secure in an arguably unhappy and insecure world. And that made her even more beautiful to him. But her physical beauty was also unquestioned. She wasn't a bombshell beauty like a Rita Hayworth or a Marilyn Monroe. She radiated more of a girl next door kind of beauty, a natural effervescence reminiscent of a Deanna Durbin. Her slightly curly auburn hair twinkled even in the artificial light. And her eyes, honest and inviting, were a beautiful shade of blue.  
  
What are you doing, Hobson?! Are you nuts?! His meddlesome inner voice berated.  
  
What was he doing? Allowing these "feelings" to trample over his common sense? For God's sake, he had been divorced for a few weeks; his heart was still raw from the pain of Marcia's rejection. He couldn't even bring himself to remove his wedding ring. As strange as it sounded, his wedding ring was still a part of him and provided comfort in connecting him to the values that he had always held dear. Removing his wedding ring would be akin to losing a part of himself. However, he had noticed the last time he saw Marcia that her wedding ring was a conspicuously absent. She probably took it off before she opened that window and threw out his suitcase. Still, he wasn't ready to part with his wedding ring yet. He couldn't.  
  
And despite how much he realized that Alan's abandonment had hurt Candace, he saw that she still wore her wedding ring. She was a "veteran" of the broken hearts club probably had the scars to prove it. Yet, six months after her divorce, a tangible symbol of love and commitment, remained visible.  
  
Her eyes, questioning and uncertain, studied him. What had she done? Had she sent out signals encouraging him? That kiss had stirred something inside of her, awakened a sleeping volcano that seemed ready to leave its mark on the world. He was truly a beautiful person, both inside and out. The way he had personalized Pilar's pain and was willing to confront one of society's greatest ills so that Pilar could receive medical treatment was a testament to his beautiful heart. And the words he spoke to Alex tonight were words scripted from that pure heart. Of course, his physical beauty was unquestioned. That luscious dark hair, those thick eyebrows, well chiseled nose, and those mud green eyes that were like irresistible pools of light in which she could easily drown. He wasn't ruggedly handsome. Instead he possessed more of a boy next door allure reminiscent of a Tom Drake, a shy, but endearing awkwardness that could make any woman's heart skip a beat or two.  
  
What are you doing, Candace?! Are you nuts?! Her inner voice scolded.  
  
She shouldn't be having these "feelings" about him. It wasn't fair to either one of them. He was still such a "lamb" in the world of the broken hearted. He still was navigating through those initial stages of divorce and trying to find a way to heal. What they shared was their love for Alex and that was more than enough. She had spent her adult life loving only one man and had bore his child. If she had met him first perhaps all their lives would have been different. She certainly was convinced that if he were Alex's father, he would have never deserted his son. People spend a lifetime searching for perfection imagining that they see it lurking behind every obscure corner or hear it faintly calling out from a dream cultivated in the recesses of one's subconscious, a dream that disappeared in the shadow of reality. And in that fool's quest for perfection, people seem to discard those things that mattered the most- love and family.  
  
She needed to let him know that there could never be anything more between them than a special friendship and a love for Alex. But she hesitated.  
  
He sensed her hesitation. He swallowed hard before finally ending the uncomfortable silence. "Candace, I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have..." He stammered.  
  
"No...I mean, it's fine. It's just that..." She stuttered. He understood. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Um...I guess it's getting late. I should be going."  
  
"And I...ah...need to check on Alex."  
  
"Alex is probably half way to Never Land by now." He added jokingly hoping to remove the tension that permeated the room.  
  
His strategy appeared to have worked for she flashed him a smile.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"I still would like to take you and Alex to Navy Pier sometime soon like I promised. Can I...ah... call you tomorrow?"  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
She walked with him towards the front door. Their eyes locked one last time.  
  
"Thank you, I mean, for tonight." She said.  
  
He smiled. "You're welcome." As he opened the door and stood outside in the chilly night air, he turned around again to face her. He had wanted to give her a simple good night kiss on the cheek, but he was afraid to kiss her again.  
  
She understood.  
  
"Well...ah...good night." He said.  
  
"Good night." She echoed. "And I'll talk to you tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes." He whispered.  
  
His response in a whisper carried in the air and tingly against her skin stayed with her as she watched him, a twinge of regret piercing her heart, leave that night.  
  
Chapter Thirty-One  
  
He placed his key into the lock and opened the door. Sighing, he took a  
  
pregnant pause before turning on the lights. He had returned home to  
  
darkness, emptiness, and loneliness. His stomach churned with the  
  
realization that this was his life. He would go out there everyday and help  
  
people, give them a future, perhaps send them home to loved ones who cared  
  
about them. But he had no one to come home to.  
  
A moment later, he turned on the lights, stood at the door, and surveyed the  
  
room. Even though he often came home to an empty house when he and Marcia  
  
were married because she worked long hours at the law firm, that was  
  
different. Then his solitude was only temporary. He had a wife that he  
  
loved (and that he thought loved him) who would be coming home. Often, he  
  
took advantage of her late nights working at the office by having dinner  
  
ready for her. Okay, so what if he wasn't a master in the culinary arts and  
  
sometimes the meat was "too" well done or the smoke detector went off? He  
  
got better at cooking over the years. At least that was what she said. She  
  
would smile when she came through the door and she saw the candlelight that  
  
bathed the room. And sometimes when he knew that she had suffered through  
  
a really rotten day at work and he wanted to make her laugh, he would put on  
  
that silly chef's hat he bought. He couldn't even remember why he bought  
  
that ridiculous thing in the first place, but it was worth wearing it just  
  
to see her smile and to hear her laugh. He loved to hear her laugh.  
  
After dinner, they would sit on the couch and just relax. He would massage  
  
her feet and let her vent about her day. He would let her vent about her  
  
pompous male colleagues who never saw her as an equal and acted as if they  
  
"expected" her to make coffee rather than share their prowess in strategy  
  
negotiations or in the courtroom. Or, he would let her vent about the  
  
idiocy of the court system that returned her brilliant joinder motion and  
  
memorandum of law finding it "insufficient for presentation" just because  
  
the staple was in the wrong place on the page in violation of some obscure  
  
local court rule. He would just listen allowing her to get all of her  
  
frustrations out. Then he would ask her why she continued to put herself  
  
through the torture of the heartless and emotionless legal profession.  
  
"Because I love the law and I'm going to be a partner at that firm someday"  
  
was her simple reply. Then she would gently caress his face and add "And  
  
because whatever happens out there, I know that I have you to come home to.  
  
I love you, Gary." There would be a silence as they feasted on each other's  
  
eyes. Then they would kiss, a quiet and tender kiss that was a prelude to  
  
something more. He would lift her off of the couch and carry her into the  
  
bedroom where they could shut out the world and revel in their love.  
  
He couldn't have misunderstood her words or her actions.  
  
The stillness sent a painful surge straight through to his gut. He  
  
remembered how he fantasized about coming home from work to the excited  
  
squeals of his child. All the day's stresses would disappear when he heard  
  
the little voice that burst with enthusiasm because daddy was home. He  
  
would lift his son or daughter into the air, hold that little body against  
  
his chest and nothing else would matter.  
  
That was the way it was when he was growing up. He remembered when he was a  
  
kid eagerly waiting for Dad to come home from work. The minute he heard the  
  
car he would rush outside. Dad would emerge from the car, a huge Cheshire  
  
cat grin on his face, and hoist him high into the air. Dad was exhausted  
  
but he never showed it. Instead, he and Dad would go back into the house  
  
and play in his room until Mom called them to supper.  
  
The eerie ghost of a pleasant childhood memory mirrored this evening that he  
  
spent playing with Alex. For a child that experts would peg as emotionally  
  
challenged, Alex had opened a door for him tonight. It was a door that he  
  
had walked through without hesitation. He watched and listened as they sat  
  
on the little boy's bedroom floor playing with those action figures. As the  
  
years passed, he realized that there would be so many doors that Alex would  
  
be hesitant to open and walk through, but he would help him. Yet, there was  
  
still so much that he needed to learn about Asperger's Syndrome. He glanced  
  
over at the kitchen table at the mountain of reading material that held so  
  
many answers, and like a well-constructed Pandora's box, even more  
  
questions.  
  
He slowly entered the room and proceeded to the couch. He collapsed on the  
  
couch emotionally and physically exhausted. He removed his leather jacket  
  
and flung it haphazardly across the arm of the couch. Then he pulled out  
  
The Paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Belatedly, he remembered the  
  
tiny slip of paper in the right front pocket of his jeans, the piece of  
  
paper that contained Lorenzo Ramirez's telephone number. He resolved to  
  
call Mr. Ramirez tomorrow to see how Pilar was doing.  
  
He had hunted through The Paper during that long wait in the hospital with  
  
Pilar searching for the story about her accident, a story that wasn't  
  
there. He had concluded that Pilar approaching him on the street hadn't  
  
been pre-ordained by The Paper but instead was a coincidence. Sometimes it  
  
was hard for him to recognize a coincidence. Having a hand in shaping  
  
people's futures because of a mysterious early edition had made him forget  
  
that there were still some things in life that happened purely by chance.  
  
And he was grateful that he was the guy that Pilar had stopped on the  
  
street. He didn't want to even think about what could have happened to her  
  
if her arm had been left untreated. He didn't even want to think about how  
  
Lorenzo and Tomas would have survived if Pilar had died, how they would have  
  
coped with losing a wife and mother. Tomas reminded him so much of Alex.  
  
But his heroics almost cost him alot, too. If Candace hadn't given him the  
  
opportunity to explain and if Alex hadn't listened to him, he would have  
  
destroyed a very special relationship. And equally important, both Candace  
  
and Alex could have remained in their emotional cocoon willingly exiling  
  
themselves from any other human contact.  
  
Candace...God, she was such an incredible woman. He had never met anyone  
  
like her. She had the fierceness of a mother lion protecting her cub  
  
mingled with a quiet vulnerability. And she was so beautiful, yet she  
  
didn't flaunt that beauty. She didn't hide behind layers of makeup as if to  
  
conceal her inner self. She was a natural beauty with flawless skin that  
  
radiated from an unpretentious soul. Being around her made him feel  
  
alive again. And that kiss, that wonderful kiss that sent goosebumps  
  
through his very core was the most....  
  
Stop it! His inner voice demanded. He had to listen to his subconscious.  
  
Or maybe he needed to listen with his heart.  
  
He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He wasn't an adolescent taken hostage by  
  
some rampant hormonal influx. He was a grown man. He should be able to  
  
control his feelings without acting upon them. He had to for both their  
  
sakes. Candace had enough to handle without worrying about him emitting  
  
romantic signals. Her focus needed to be on Alex. And as their friend, his  
  
focus needed to be on Alex. He wouldn't make her uncomfortable by allowing  
  
his actions to suggest that he wanted more.  
  
The first thing he would do when he called tomorrow was to apologize for  
  
kissing her. No, maybe that wasn't a good idea. If he brought up that kiss  
  
again, he would probably make her feel uncomfortable. No, what he would do  
  
is check The Paper and pray that he was granted another reprieve with light  
  
stories so that they could go to Navy Pier.  
  
A thought jumped into his mind as if it were looking for a home and  
  
acceptance. Maybe he should tell Candace about The Paper. She had never  
  
questioned how he happened to show up at that supermarket in time to save  
  
Alex from injury, but if The Paper ended up again conflicting with his well  
  
laid out plans, that would cause more problems. Neither Alex nor Candace  
  
would forgive him if he disappointed them again.  
  
But how would she take the news of a futuristic newspaper? In these few  
  
weeks since The Paper had been coming to him, he still couldn't believe it  
  
sometimes. He still wondered where The Paper came from and why he, just a  
  
regular guy from Hickory, Indiana, had been charged with the responsibility  
  
of saving lives. How could he explain something so extraordinary to Candace  
  
when he didn't even understand it himself? This secret was something that  
  
only he, Marissa, and Chuck shared. Maybe it wasn't fair to tell Candace  
  
about The Paper, maybe it wasn't fair to expect her to understand and accept  
  
his burden.  
  
Sighing, he headed for the shower. Before he reached the bathroom, his eye  
  
caught the blinking answering machine. He hesitated for a moment before  
  
deciding that he really didn't want to talk to anyone tonight. He would  
  
play that message tomorrow.  
  
A meow emanated from underneath the bed before Cat revealed his presence.  
  
Cat flashed him a defiant look before scurrying into the kitchen and jumping  
  
on the counter. Cat appeared to study the answering machine before offering  
  
a chorus of soft purrs.  
  
He shook his head. He was in no mood to deal with Cat's antics. He would  
  
take his shower and then go to bed. Without saying a word, he headed into  
  
the bathroom and closed the door.  
  
But Cat stayed on the counter and gazed at the blinking answering machine  
  
almost knowingly.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Two  
  
The eager sun smiled all over Chicago dressing the city in its brilliance in the early morning hours.  
  
"Meow. Thump."  
  
Gary grumbled as he pulled back the bed covers and proceeded towards the door, his gait as slow and deliberate as a man facing the guillotine. He had gone to bed early last night, but instead of succumbing to a peaceful inertia, he had spent most of the night tossing and turning with both his mind and his body restless. So many thoughts had waltzed around in his head- Candace, the kiss, Alex, his failed marriage, The Paper- that now his aching muscles screamed at him with discontent.  
  
"Meow."  
  
"I'm coming. Hold on, would ya? If you're in that much of a hurry, how about you take care of The Paper and I'll stay in bed?" He roared. He opened the door and gazed at the feline, his stare icy. Undaunted, Cat offered another enthusiastic meow before strutting into the room with an air of confidence, like a warrior who had conquered virgin territory. As Gary bent down to retrieve The Paper, he found himself eye level with a familiar pair of suede shoes. He looked up meeting the face of the owner of the shoes who he noted sported a wide smile. Like one of those merciless mechanical arms that swoops down to successfully capture a prize, Gary laced his fingers around The Paper and stood up.  
  
"Chuck."  
  
"Good morning, Gar."  
  
"What's so good about it?" He asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice. Chuck entered the room. He closed the door.  
  
"This is your lucky day, Gar." "And why is that?"  
  
"Because you're lucky to have a friend like me."  
  
"I know that I'm going to regret asking this but why am I lucky to have a friend like you?"  
  
"Well, remember when you had me go to the library to finish your research?"  
  
"Yeah. And you ended up with a date."  
  
Chuck smiled. "Can I help it if I have more charm than even I can handle? Maybe I could patent my winning techniques with women, share my secrets with the less fortunate."  
  
"You're all heart, Chuck."  
  
"Anyway, the woman I went out with...wow! Gar, you should have seen her. About 5 foot 10, blonde. We're talking super model material here. And she had the best set of..."  
  
"Chuck." Gary admonished.  
  
"...eyes. She had the best set of eyes I've ever seen. The only problem was that she was too smart. I'm talking Einstein smart. All evening she talked about classical music like Chopin, Bach, and Mozart and art, you know, Monet, Degas, Matisse, Renoir. And she got all excited about Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and Dante's Inferno. You know why she was at the library? She's studying for her Ph.D. in English Literature and was researching for her dissertation on an analysis of the morality of a hero in the works of Shakespeare comparing selected examples against the backdrop of the hero in modern cynical society. The whole time I listened to her talk, I remembered thinking that I had to be cursed. Here I was sitting with this gorgeous woman and she was more your type than mine. But then she said the words that nearly brought me to tears. I was so happy."  
  
"And what words were they?"  
  
"She said 'I'm an identical twin.' And her twin sister is an investment banker. Imagine that. Beautiful and she loves money."  
  
"Sounds like a match made in heaven." Gary said. He proceeded to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out some orange juice.  
  
"For both of us."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"You and me buddy. We have dates with the Doublemint twins tonight." "Chuck, you didn't. Tell me that you didn't."  
  
"I did. And you don't have to thank me."  
  
"I wasn't." Gary said, his jaw clenched with displeasure.  
  
"Come on, Gar. It's for your own good."  
  
"I don't need a date."  
  
"Of course you do. I'm telling you, Gar, this woman is hot. And she's brainy. I know how much you like those brainy types. And just think, you, me, twins. We'll be living our fantasy."  
  
Gary flashed Chuck a disapproving look.  
  
"Okay, so we'll be living my fantasy. But it's an experience that I want to share with my best bud."  
  
"I don't need a date." Gary reiterated.  
  
"That's exactly what you need. Look, buddy, I know that when you put on that gold band you planned to stay married for the rest of your life. But Marcia had other plans. Now it's time for you to get back on that horse. There's a smorgasbord of beautiful women out there, Gar. It's time you took your plate and came to the table."  
  
Gary glanced at the blinking answering message and belatedly remembered the message he didn't listen to last night. He walked over to the answering machine and pressed the play button. "I'm not ready for romance, Chuck."  
  
"Hello, Gary. It's Candace." The voice on the message revealed.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Three  
  
He was taken aback by the sound of her voice. He never expected her to  
  
call. After the kiss that they shared last night, both of them had left so  
  
many words unspoken. She had graciously accepted his awkward apology for  
  
stepping over the line of friendship and she had even seemed happy by the  
  
prospect of him calling her tomorrow. And then he left her to go home.  
  
Why would she have called?  
  
His insecurities were waging a battle with his emotions and winning. Maybe  
  
she had considered more carefully the implications of his kiss and had  
  
decided that his behavior was inappropriate and unforgivable, that he had  
  
taken advantage of her vulnerability, her honesty, and their friendship.  
  
Maybe she had decided that he wasn't the kind of man she wanted in her son's  
  
life.  
  
He braced himself for the worst as he continued listening to her message.  
  
"I wanted to thank you for coming over tonight and for all you said and did  
  
for Alex. When you saw how upset and angry he was at you for not taking him  
  
to Navy Pier, you could have easily given up on him, on trying to reach him,  
  
to get him to understand, but you didn't. The fact that you love him this  
  
much makes me very happy. I think that that I can even forgive you for  
  
eating his lima beans."  
  
He smiled over the lima beans remark.  
  
"Alex woke up a little while after you left. The first thing he asked me  
  
was where you were. I told him that it was late and that you had to go  
  
home. Then he asked me for the truck that you bought him. He told me that  
  
he needed to have it in order to go back to sleep. He's in there now  
  
sleeping with that truck. I suspect that I'm going to have quite a  
  
challenge prying it out of his hands in the morning." Candace paused  
  
briefly before continuing. "Gary...I-I know that you're probably feeling  
  
badly about that kiss. I would be lying to you if I said that it didn't  
  
surprise me when you kissed me. I didn't expect it and I wasn't prepared for  
  
it."  
  
Gary cringed over Candace's last comment.  
  
"But-But that kiss was very special. It was just like you, sweet and  
  
giving. And it made me feel...well, it made me feel beautiful. I haven't  
  
felt that way in such a long time. But it was one wonderful moment in our  
  
lives and it can't be more than that, at least not now. Remember those  
  
stages of divorce that I told you about? Well, both of us still have a long  
  
way to go before we can feel whole again. I guess what I'm trying to say is  
  
that I knew that you were probably home punishing yourself over kissing me  
  
tonight and I didn't want you to do that because you have nothing to feel  
  
ashamed of or to regret. You're a wonderful man, Gary Hobson, and a  
  
beautiful person inside. You're very special to Alex and me. And we love  
  
you very much. Well, that's all I had to say I guess. I suppose that I  
  
should shut up now before your answering machine cuts me off. I'm looking  
  
forward to hearing from you tomorrow. Good night."  
  
Gary found himself smiling. Here he had assumed the worst when he heard  
  
Candace's voice. He assumed that her call was going to be an end. But in  
  
the deep recesses of his mind and his heart (in a place that he kept his  
  
emotions safeguarded) and whether he was ready to admit it or not, he saw  
  
that call as a beginning. And that made him smile; no, that made him grin.  
  
He was grinning in spite of himself.  
  
Chuck's polite cough jolted him back to reality and reminded him that he  
  
wasn't alone in the room.  
  
"Gar."  
  
"Don't start." Gary warned. "It was nothing...it was...it was just a phone  
  
call." He stammered uncomfortably. He rubbed his hand across the back of  
  
his neck.  
  
"Really? Just a phone call, huh? Is that why you have that stupid grin all  
  
over your face?"  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"Trust me, buddy, you do." Chuck proceeded to where Gary was standing.  
  
"Gar, how can I put this? Look, I know that you want to help that little  
  
boy with his emotional problems and that you want to be there for him  
  
because his father was a jerk, but you're asking for trouble. You're not  
  
just being a Good Samitaran saving the day because of The Paper. You're  
  
getting too wrapped up in that kid's life. And you're getting too wrapped  
  
up with her. You're falling for her, aren't you?"  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about." Gary snapped defensively. "It  
  
was just a kiss."  
  
"A kiss isn't just a kiss, Gar, at least not with you. I know you, buddy.  
  
I saw that look on your face when you were listening to that message. I've  
  
seen you with that look before when you were with Genie and Marcia. Your  
  
face gets all glazed and you don't see anyone or anything except the woman  
  
you're in love with. You bought that boy a present and I bet that you  
  
played with him, too, didn't you?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"And you had dinner with them, even ate the kid's lima beans. With them you  
  
get that nice, cozy domestic picture that you've always wanted and that  
  
neither Genie nor Marcia were willing to give you. But you're going to end  
  
up hurt, buddy. You need to get out of this now. You've got enough to deal  
  
with in handling The Paper without adding another heartbreak on top of it."  
  
"There's nothing romantic between me and Candace." He insisted.  
  
"Okay, then prove it."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"Prove it. Come on that double date tonight with the twin goddesses. Trust  
  
me, Gar, it's exactly what you need. You'll get to spend time with a  
  
beautiful and smart, single woman. And there won't be any strings. You can  
  
just have fun with no strings attached. What do you say?"  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Gar?"  
  
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "What time?"  
  
Now it was Chuck's turn to grin. "Seven thirty. They're meeting us at the  
  
Hilton. You won't regret this buddy, trust me." Chuck glanced at his  
  
watch. "I need to get to work. Pritchard is on the warpath again." Chuck  
  
started for the door. Before he opened the door, he turned back around to  
  
face Gary. "By the way, your girl's name is Melissa. And her sister is  
  
Clarissa. And don't forget to wear something nice. I told Melissa that you  
  
were a freelance journalist trying to sell your stuff to the New York Times  
  
and the Washington Post."  
  
"You did what?!"  
  
"Come on, Gar. I couldn't exactly say that you were an unemployed  
  
stockbroker living in a dump who gets tomorrow's newspaper today,  
  
could I? Anyway, it's a *tiny* white lie. You *are* in the newspaper  
  
business. Man, we're going to have a good time. See you tonight, buddy."  
  
With those words, Chuck left.  
  
"Oh Boy." Gary said to himself as he proceeded to the couch and grabbed The  
  
Paper. He began flipping through the pages. He had the feeling that it was  
  
going to be a long day and an even longer night.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Four  
  
Mr. Bear ended his self-imposed exile. He was no longer a sad hermit cleaving to the pain of rejection and abandonment. The teddy bear with the big brown eyes had slept well last night. No more tears. No more hurt. Mommy was happy, smiling. Now he could smile, too.  
  
But the yellow toy train that had enjoyed its berth on the window seat not far from the little boy's bed had been unceremoniously dumped at the bottom of the big wooden toy chest adorned with Peter Pan characters.  
  
Candace had watched in quiet reverence as Alex had very methodically rearranged his room. She watched him bury the toy train in a grave with an assortment of other misfits. And she watched him lovingly place the remote control truck on the window seat. He gazed at his handiwork, those beautiful sapphire eyes twinkling with contentment. That truck had been relegated to a position of honor in the room, a position that would allow it to taste the sun's rays the moment the light played peek-a-boo against the window in the early morning hours. And the truck would be the first to hear the melodious aria of the birds that happily greeted the day with their sweet chirps.  
  
The paradox that was Asperger's Syndrome had characterized Alex's redecorating efforts. Candace knew that his inability to communicate, finding the words, frustrated him. The words were like vigilant enemies that trapped the little boy's emotions. The emotions were there; they were curious and desperate for recognition. But Alex struggled at finding the words to embrace his emotions. Yet, at this moment, his actions spoke loudly and more forcefully than any words could have. A yellow toy train and a remote control truck became the metaphors for expressing his emotions.  
  
Alex knew that the yellow toy train was the last present he had received from his father. When she gave him the train she also told him that Daddy had to go away but that didn't mean that Daddy didn't love him. She lauded the train as a testament of Alan's love. Despite her conflicting emotions about Alan, her anger that he had left them and had taken up with another woman in such a short period of time, she was determined that Alex would not blame himself for Alan's behavior nor feel the sting of his father's rejection. Alex seemed to understand her explanation as he accepted the train. He seemed to enjoy playing with the train. She sensed that having the toy made him feel as if he would always carry a piece of his daddy with him. Maybe he needed that train to feel comforted and secure whenever a wave of dizzying emotions consumed him.  
  
But apparently he didn't need the train anymore because a remote control truck had usurped a coveted position in Alex's heart. And a good-hearted hero had replaced a wayward father.  
  
When Alex awoke last night, the first thing he wanted to know was where Gary was. After he learned that Gary had gone home, he insisted on sleeping with the truck. She obliged his desire because she realized that it was more than just a childhood whim. The truck was Alex's tangible connection to Gary. A short while later, Alex offered a steady chorus of yawns, rubbed his eyes, and was once again asleep. His little fingers held the truck tightly.  
  
She walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch. This day had been emotionally draining. She had started the day expecting a fun filled time at Navy Pier. Navy Pier never happened. What occurred instead were disappointment, anger, forgiveness, and revelation.  
  
And a kiss.  
  
She traced her lips. She could still feel the residue of his lips caressing her lips. The sensual ecstasy of his kiss had left goosebumps over her skin. In that brief moment, she remembered what it felt like to be sixteen years old and in love, how self-assured and hopeful love was back then. The world...the world didn't matter; it was inconsequential. The only thing that mattered was love and the feel of his lips against hers.  
  
Except she wasn't sixteen. And what she was feeling wasn't love. It couldn't be. It was all too soon to consider. But she couldn't deny how that kiss had affected her.  
  
She could still see his eyes as he left, the sparkling mud green jewels had lost their luster under a coating of torment and guilt. He had apologized as if he had done something unforgivable, as if he had taken something away from her. Instead, he had given her so much in a single kiss. That was why she had to call him, to tell him that. She couldn't allow him to go on believing that his behavior had been deplorable. Perhaps the kiss was premature. Maybe. But it wasn't deplorable. It was magical.  
  
She prayed that he hadn't arrived home yet. It would so much easier saying what she had to say over an answering machine. She realized that unless he were Superman it was improbable that he was already home because he had only recently left her apartment. She dialed his number. The sound of his voice on that sterile invention succeeded in raising new goosebumps on her skin.  
  
She spoke from her heart and hoped that he understood. Subconsciously, she wanted him to call her back, but he didn't. It wasn't long before she went to bed, but her mind and body were agitated. She tossed and turned all night.  
  
The next morning he did call just like he promised. He didn't mention her answering machine message and she didn't want to bring it up either in case he still felt embarrassed. Besides, Alex had crept into the living room while she was on the phone. When she confirmed to her son that she was speaking to Gary, Alex reached for the phone. The little boy rambled on about how Mr. Bear felt happy and about how he had slept with the truck. He also reminded Gary that there were still people Superman needed to rescue and asked when Gary could come over and play with him again. She couldn't hear Gary's response to Alex's questions, but the wide smile on his face spoke volumes. He handed her back the phone and disappeared into his room. Gary confirmed to Candace that he told Alex that he wanted to come over and play with him again soon if it was okay with her. The hidden meaning behind his words was seized in the air, but she replied simply that of course it was okay. He also said that he had a full schedule today so he couldn't take them to Navy Pier, but he wanted to go with them very soon. She thought she heard a "meow" in the background before he hastily ended the phone call.  
  
She went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. As the bacon sizzled, so did her mind, full of thoughts about Gary. There was so much about this man that she didn't know. What she did know was that he had the most generous soul she had ever seen and that his heart, and perhaps his confidence, had been shattered by his ex-wife cruel treatment. She felt a resurgence of anger at Marcia percolating in her gut like restless bile ready to explode. How could that woman had hurt Gary so much when he must have loved her with all of his heart? It was understandable if now Gary would be tentative at exposing his vulnerabilities. He was terrified at experiencing that kind of hurt again. In a way this realization made that kiss all the poignant and special. It was a kiss that had escaped from the fear of rejection and just needed to be an honest expression of emotion.  
  
The patter of little feet intruded upon her reflections. "Mommy". The little voice whispered.  
  
She looked down and saw that Alex held a piece of paper. "Here, Mommy. Look. This is for Gary." He said as he handed her the paper.  
  
Smiling, she took the paper. A rainbow of vivid colors greeted her, but it was the images portrayed on the page that she studied intently. The figures appeared as if Picasso had created them; they were so abstract in their dimensions. Stick figures, really, but stick figures that screamed their intentions. Silent screams, but screams that resonated loudly in the little boy's heart. The drawing showed a small boy with sapphire eyes in the middle of a tall man with dark hair and distinctive mud green eyes and a woman with slightly curly auburn hair. They were all holding hands and they were smiling. They seemed so happy.  
  
And they seemed like a family.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Five  
  
Life is quickly sown with thorns. There is no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us. That was what Voltaire, the French philosopher, believed. But what did he know anyway? Voltaire didn't have to balance his life with getting tomorrow's newspaper today.  
  
The gravamen of Gary's existence was The Paper, a jealous and possessive mistress that offered more thorns than he could handle.  
  
And the gods were definitely angry with him today. Yesterday, The Paper had given him simple stories and beneficiaries of his heroics that were so appreciative of his efforts that they expressed their gratitude by saying "thank you." Twenty-four hours later, Dr. Jekyll had apparently overtaken Mr. Hyde and a palpable malaise had washed over temperaments. People were mean-spirited and nasty and he was christened as their whipping boy to suffer the scourge of their foul behavior. For example, he saved two senior citizens from serious injury (one woman from being hit by a car and the other from a fall down a flight of stairs in a department store) and both elderly women showed their gratitude by being abusive and cantankerous. He could understand them being suspicious of the sudden appearance of a stranger by their side, but he was taken aback by their blatant hostility especially since his actions should have made them realize that he didn't harbor any criminal intentions. The first woman gave him such a severe tongue lashing that all he could muster in response were several weak "Yes, Ma'ams" as his face betrayed him with a noticeable blush. The second woman spared him the diatribe. Instead, she left him with a painful blow across the shoulder blade with her cane.  
  
And the day got progressively worst. His efforts at preventing two teenagers from fighting over a girl that had been secretly dating both of them almost cost him a beating. He had never considered himself a small man, but next to the beefy adolescents (who towered several inches over him and outweighed him by at least sixty pounds), he felt as if he were a helpless Lilliputian facing the wrath of a demented and homicidal Gulliver. What constituted these teens diet anyway? Steroids? Was that the 'breakfast of champions' for the younger generation? He would never make an orator and coupled with his propensity for nervousness in intense situations, his arguments as to why they shouldn't fight made him sound like an idiot. Ironically, they seemed to have forgotten their grievance with each other and forged an alliance with the express purpose of teaching him a lesson about the perils of nosiness. He swallowed hard as he backed away slowly from the approaching menace. Fortunately for him a cop happened to arrive on the scene in time to prevent any bloodshed. He was able to slip away undetected.  
  
The afternoon was followed by many more saves and many more confrontations with ingrates. Finally, he returned home from a very long day. Tired and frustrated all he wanted was a hot shower and bed. However, he belatedly remembered that he had stupidly agreed to this double date with Chuck. God, why had he done that? He should have his head examined! But he had allowed Chuck's remarks about his feelings for Candace to put him on the defensive. It was almost as if he had accepted his best friend's dare. He quickly realized that was exactly what he did to prove to Chuck (and himself) that he didn't have a romantic interest in Candace. Now he had no choice but to go through with this date.  
  
After taking a shower, he selected a conservative gray suit and a matching silk tie. He glanced over at the bed at the bouquet of red roses he had purchased for Melissa. It had been such a long since he had dated that he could barely remember the rules. Was he supposed to bring her a gift? He couldn't remember so he decided to err on the side of caution by picking up the roses on his way home. He had such a difficult time deciding which bouquet to buy. He didn't want to buy something neither too ostentatious nor too cheap. The bouquet that he selected was understated yet tastefully appropriate. However, he still felt ridiculous as if he were some adolescent getting ready for the prom.  
  
He gazed at the gold band on his finger. He twisted the ring. Maybe it was time to remove it, but somehow he couldn't. He just wasn't ready. Yet, showing up wearing a wedding ring on a date wasn't going to earn him a gold star from Miss Manners. He really hated this. He was never very good at the whole dating thing and first dates were the worst. Trying to minimize those excruciating long silences in the conversation. There could be just so many times that he could mention the Cubs without feeling nauseous.  
  
And Chuck had made matters even worst by telling this woman that he was a freelance journalist trying to sell his stuff to the New York Times and The Washington Post. No doubt she would ask him about his "profession" and he would either have to lie or admit Chuck's deception.  
  
A knock on the door shook him from his musings. He looked at his watch- 6:30. His jaw clenched in annoyance. That had to be Chuck. Chuck had called and said that was coming over at 7:00 so that they could go to the Hilton together. Peeved, he proceeded to the door.  
  
"It's only 6:30. What, did you think I wasn't com..." He said as he opened the door. Only he discovered that Chuck wasn't his visitor. The two people at the door greeted him with smiles.  
  
"Candace." He whispered.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Six  
  
Instinctively, Gary hoisted Alex into his arms. The little boy rewarded the hero with a kiss on the cheek. In that moment, a child's unconditional love and trust had supplanted the frustrations of a thankless job saving lives. This was what life was about. Life was about leaving the heartache and the pain of the outside world behind and coming home to love. What did the rudeness and cruelties of strangers matter when you could come home to people who loved you? This had always been Gary's ideal, to leave the insanity of the outside world behind and to come home to the loving bosom of his wife and his child.  
  
Only Alex wasn't his child. Yet, holding Alex closely against his chest felt like such a natural impulse for Gary, a paternal instinct. And there was no question that Gary's gentle touch was a safe haven for Alex.  
  
"I'm sorry that we didn't call first." Candace said sheepishly.  
  
"No...ah...that's fine. Come in." Gary invited. Cradling Alex in his arms, he moved to the side allowing Candace to enter the room. He closed the door and then turned to face her.  
  
"Alex was very excited about a present that he has for you. Isn't that right, honey?"  
  
Alex nodded. He requested that Gary put him down on the floor. Candace opened her purse, removed the neatly folded piece of paper, and handed it to her son. Sapphire eyes twinkled in merriment. Alex smiled expectantly as he presented his bounty to Gary.  
  
Gary gratefully accepted the gift. Mud green eyes sparkled as they feasted on the images that exploded on the page. There was such a depth of emotion expressed in the simple drawing.  
  
"Wow, this is wonderful. Thank you." Gary gushed. " I think that you and I need to find a very special place to put this. What do you think?  
  
"Refrigerator." Alex replied.  
  
"That's where I put all of Alex's drawings." Candace informed him.  
  
Gary smiled as childhood memories flooded his mind. Mom was the same way. So many of his artistic creations ended up proudly displayed on the Hobson refrigerator that the appliance looked more like a gallery than a vessel for food. Mom said that it just felt right to have his drawings there because her heart was nourished every time she looked at them. And right after she fed her heart, she could then take some food from the refrigerator and feed her stomach. He remembered feeling so happy over Mom's words.  
  
Alex strutted confidently into the kitchen while Gary followed closely behind him. Candace remained in the other room contented that the two of them should share that moment alone. Walking towards the couch, her gaze caught the bouquet of roses lying majestically on the bed. The happiness of the earlier moment was replaced by sorrow as she realized what the flowers and Gary's formal attire meant.  
  
How stupid of her not to make the connection when she first entered the room. She had assumed that Gary's business wardrobe was because he had returned home from work and didn't have the opportunity to change. This was the first time she had ever seen him in a suit and she thought to herself how elegant he looked. Of course, he was just as handsome in casual clothes, but the suit served to accentuate his features. And he smelled good, too. The intoxicatingly wonderful scent of his cologne (or was it his aftershave?) had left her weak in the knees as she brushed pass him when she entered the room. She almost had a difficult time concentrating on the purpose of the impromptu visit.  
  
Why wouldn't he want to date? He had to be lonely. He was still hurting over his divorce, but maybe dating would help to heal the hole in his heart. There was sadness in his eyes. Maybe dating would help to remove some of that sadness. He deserved to have a good time. He deserved to surrender the pain for one evening. She was happy for him.  
  
But a pang of jealousy washed over her as her eyes focused on the roses. She knew that she had no right to feel such a destructive emotion, but she couldn't help herself. She wondered about the mystery woman. What did his date look like? Was the woman a blonde or a brunette? She nervously twisted a ringlet of her auburn hair. She released the hair belatedly remembering that Nana always chided this nervous habit. Annoyed by her interference, the stubborn strand returned to its original form once her finger released its lock on its captive.  
  
It seemed as if he preferred brunettes. His ex-wife was a brunette. Maybe the woman was someone he met at work. This woman had to be very special to him if he bought her roses.  
  
She kept telling herself that she was very happy for him even as she fought the memory of a kiss.  
  
The appearance of Gary and Alex entering from the kitchen broke her from her reverie. "That drawing was just what my refrigerator needed." Gary remarked to Candace. Alex swelled with pride. "Gary, come over my house and play." Alex requested.  
  
"Soon." Gary replied.  
  
"Tonight. Come over and play tonight." Alex insisted.  
  
"Alex, buddy, I can't come over tonight. I'm sorry. But I'll come soon. I promise." Gary reiterated.  
  
Alex stiffened as his face revealed a mixture of anger and hurt. Tears welled in his eyes. "Tonight." He repeated, his little voice choked by emotion. He didn't understand why Gary would refuse to play with him.  
  
Gary exchanged a worried look with Candace. "Alex, honey. Gary already has plans tonight, but he'll play with you soon." She offered reaching her hand out to comfort her son.  
  
But Alex snatched away from her grasp. He fled to the couch and buried his face against the pillow. Gary and Candace could hear his light sobs.  
  
Candace started for the couch until Gary gently touched her arm. "Let me talk to him." Gary said. She nodded. Gary proceeded to the couch and sat down next to Alex.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Alex? Alex, look at me. Please?"  
  
Alex looked up from the safety of his pillow. At that moment, Alex's tear stained face was a testament to his emotional confusion. Alex was very angry with Gary for not wanting to come over tonight and play with him yet he loved Gary very much and he didn't want to feel angry with him.  
  
"Alex, remember when I told you that a person should never break a promise? And how I was very sorry when I had to break my promise about taking you to Navy Pier? Remember when I told you that I broke my promise because I had no choice because I had to get that woman who was hurt and scared to the hospital so that the doctors could make her feel all better? And even though me breaking my promise to you made both of us very sad, I was happy that I could help that woman. You know what, Alex? That woman is a mommy just like your mommy and she has a little boy just like you. He would have been very sad if I hadn't helped his mommy when she was hurt and scared. But tonight is different. I promised a friend that I would go out before I knew that you wanted me to come over tonight and play with you. I can't break that promise just because I want to play with you more than anything. It would be different if you were hurt and I had to break my promise because I needed to take you to the hospital. But I can't break my promise just because I want to play. Do you understand?"  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Sapphire eyes locked with mud green eyes but Gary couldn't see understanding within the little boy's turmoil. Of course, Candace realized Alex's inner struggle at that moment so she proceeded to the couch, sat down next to him, and hugged him tightly. Witnessing this exchange between mother and son, Gary knew that he still had a long way to go before he could understand AS.  
  
Many minutes passed with Candace gently rocking Alex back and forth and soothing him with her words. Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck not quire sure what he could say to get Alex to understand him.  
  
"Alex. Promises are so important." He began awkwardly. "Promises are like...promises are like presents you give to people you love just like you gave me your drawing. I made a promise tonight to someone I love and they would be very sad and hurt if I didn't keep my promise."  
  
Finally, Alex looked up at Gary from the comfort of his mother's chest. His beautiful sapphire eyes seemed to register understanding. "Promises are presents?" He asked. "Yes. They are presents you give to people you love." Gary reiterated. "I don't want to be mean at you." Alex said before hugging Gary. "That's okay." Gary reassured. After the hug ended Gary said, "And I promise...I promise that I'll come over and play with you very soon."  
  
"And have dinner?" The little boy inquired.  
  
"And have dinner. And maybe we can even talk your mommy into not making any more lima beans. What do you say, mommy?" Gary asked Candace. He flashed her the most adorable little boy look that he could muster.  
  
Alex giggled over Gary's expression then mimicked the look.  
  
"Seems that I'm outnumbered." She conceded. "I'll think about it."  
  
"We'll keep working on her." Gary whispered into Alex's ear.  
  
A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Excuse me." Gary said as he rose from the couch, proceeded to the door, and opened it.  
  
"Good, you're dressed. I'm telling you Gar, you're going to thank me when you see this woman. She is hot with a capital H." Chuck said excitedly.  
  
"Chuck."  
  
"And if you play your cards right, you might get lucky." Chuck added.  
  
"Chuck."  
  
"I mean, who knows, you might not even want to come home tonight." Chuck continued, elbowing Gary suggestively.  
  
"Chuck!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
Gary moved aside. Chuck noticed the attractive woman and the little boy sitting on the couch.  
  
Chuck entered the room. "Sorry, Gar. I didn't know that you had company."  
  
"Ah...Chuck, this is Candace and her son Alex."  
  
Chapter Thirty-Seven  
  
He briefly contemplated the distinction between manslaughter and murder and how much time he'd have to serve for killing his best friend. Ever since he had known him, it seemed to be Chuck's mantra to open his mouth and insert his foot. For once he wished that Chuck's brain would communicate with his mouth and he would actually think before he spoke instead of allowing his comments to flow freely like lava oozing from a volcano.  
  
This moment ranked right up there with other embarrassing moments. He remembered when he was a sophomore in high school and Mr. Bancroft required the class to memorize and recite Hamlet's soliloquy. He had memorized the speech, but he tossed and turned all night filled with dread over the impending recitation. For the painfully shy and sensitive adolescent, public speaking held as much charm as a root canal. When he finally fell asleep that night, he had a terrible dream. In his dream he was in front of the class doing his recitation and the whole time that he was speaking, the entire class (and even Mr. Bancroft) was laughing hysterically. He couldn't understand why until he glanced down at himself and discovered that he had come to school wearing only his underwear. The humiliating nightmare jolted him awake at 6:00 a.m. He spent the next sleepless hour with his stomach tied in knots. Fortunately, reality didn't mirror fantasy and he survived the recitation even if he did nervously stammer through the Bard's literary classic.  
  
A year later, he experienced an embarrassing moment courtesy of Mr. Bancroft. Mr. Bancroft was discussing "Great Expectations". He had stayed up late after spending hours doing homework and working on his essay for the Rotary Scholarship. And Mr. Bancroft's tone was as dry and mechanic as a therapist feeding a patient a hypnotic suggestion. The sound of his teacher's voice succeeded in putting him to sleep. Other students claimed that he was snoring, but he doubted that because he didn't snore. Nonetheless, the feel of a hard object making contact with his head had awakened him. To this day, he still couldn't believe that Mr. Bancroft had thrown that book at him.  
  
Yet, those memories seemed inconsequential compared to the embarrassment of this moment. He could feel his face becoming warm. Here he had gone through painstaking efforts explaining to Alex why he couldn't come over tonight and play because he had to keep a promise to someone he loved. After some tenuous moments, Alex seemed to understand. And while it hadn't been his intention, his explanation sounded noble. But Chuck's suggestive remarks made him sound like some Lothario on the prowl for his next conquest. He certainly never desired nor felt comfortable with the designation of "stud" even when the guys would tease him using that label. He remembered those late nights in college playing poker with the guys. Between the beer and poker chips, there were those pathetic games of one upsmanship, a testosterone waltz of male bravado where his cronies bragged about women. Of course, he suspected that the lively stories exchanged by his comrades were grounded more in fantasy than reality.  
  
And he couldn't explain it, but he really hadn't wanted Candace to know about his date. He felt guilty about this date; no, not guilty, that was the wrong word. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He and Candace were just very good friends. No, he felt uncomfortable that she knew that he had a date. The strange thing was that he couldn't explain why he felt so uncomfortable.  
  
Gary closed the door. "Candace, this is my friend, Chuck Fishman. Chuck, meet Candace and Alex Miller." Both Candace and Alex rose from the couch. Chuck proceeded to where they were standing. He extended his hand to Candace. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller."  
  
"Please call me Candace." She said, accepting his handshake  
  
"And I'm Chuck."  
  
Chuck offered his hand to Alex. "And it's nice to meet you, too."  
  
But Alex didn't accept the stranger's handshake. Instead, he stood there, silent, as his gaze fixed on Chuck's watch. The shiny object mesmerized the little boy.  
  
Chuck removed his hand when he saw that Alex wasn't going to acknowledge the handshake.  
  
"Well...ah...we should be going. Alex has had a long day. It was nice meeting you. Gary, I'll talk to you later. And...um...have a nice evening." She said awkwardly.  
  
"Yeah." He murmured in response.  
  
She took Alex by the hand and scurried to the door.  
  
"Hey, Alex. Thanks for the drawing." Gary called out.  
  
Alex turned around, offered a slight smile, before he and Candace left the room. Gary stared for a moment at the door.  
  
"So, that's the woman and her kid, huh?" Chuck remarked.  
  
Gary glared at Chuck, his jaw clenched.  
  
"What?" Chuck said defensively.  
  
"What was that about?"  
  
"What was what about?"  
  
"Don't give me that Chuck. You know what I'm talking about."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
" I'm talking...I'm talking about your little show at the door." Gary said, his voice laced with annoyance. "I'm talking about 'she's hot with a capital H'." Gary added in a mocking tone.  
  
"Don't get all hot under the collar, buddy. How was I supposed to know that you had company? And since you claim that there's nothing romantic between you and that woman..."  
  
"There isn't."  
  
"...well then I'm sure that she doesn't care how you spend your evening."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"You know something, buddy. If I didn't know you better, I'd swear that you were holding out on me."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"That kid...man, he looks just like you. I mean, you could be his father."  
  
"Now you sound like Marcia."  
  
"Marcia has seen him?"  
  
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah. She came in here hurling all kinds of accusations."  
  
Chuck smirked. "That's a story that I'm dying to hear, but not right now. We have a date with destiny. No, that's not right. We have a date with ecstasy."  
  
Gary shook his head. "Let's just go, huh?" Gary proceeded to the bed and picked up the roses.  
  
"Hey, Gar. Lend me thirty bucks."  
  
"Thirty bucks? What for?"  
  
"I didn't know that you were bringing Melissa flowers. I didn't buy anything for Clarissa and if you show up with roses and I come in there empty-handed, Clarissa will think that I'm cheap. That could ruin everything. I mean, we're talking about the future mother of my children here."  
  
Gary shook his head again. He started to utter a response, but he decoded against it. Instead, he removed his wallet, opened it, and took out some money. He handed the money to Chuck.  
  
"Thanks, buddy."  
  
"Let's just go and get this over with."  
  
"You know, Gar, you could show some enthusiasm. You're going on a date not to a firing squad. I hope you lose that attitude before we get to the restaurant. I don't want you messing up my chances with Clarissa. Oh, and don't forget. You're a freelance journalist trying to..."  
  
"...sell my stuff to the New York Times and the Washington Post. Yeah, so I've heard."  
  
"I'm telling you, Gar, this is going to be a night that you won't forget."  
  
Chapter Thirty-Eight  
  
The restless moon danced fitfully against the curtains casting a nervous silhouette of eerie light. The shadows were haunting, almost angry. Maybe they were aware of what had happened tonight, the cruelty and hatred, so unwelcome and uninvited, that had insinuated itself into a home filled with love. Candace watched Alex sleep. Perhaps he didn't really understand the full magnitude of what had occurred tonight. At least, that was what she hoped. In his hands he held the remote control truck that offered him comfort and solace. His breathing, relaxed and controlled, was in stark contrast to her own tortured breaths that represented the lingering byproduct of her anger. He was smiling in his sleep. She suspected that he was having happy dreams. Perhaps he had flown to Neverland. Or, maybe Superman, that last bastion of hope and goodness, was out saving the day. She wouldn't know. What she did know was that watching him at this moment warmed her heart. And crushed it into a million pieces.  
  
Her pain was palpable. She felt a twinge of sadness realizing that Neverland and Superman were figments of his childhood innocence. She wanted desperately to protect that innocence, safeguard it so that it would never be compromised by societal ugliness, but she knew that she couldn't. Tonight was proof of that. Society was ugly. It was evil. Society bred mean-spirited people who only felt alive when they inflicted pain. Strangers, she told herself, just strangers. Yet, tonight the face of evil didn't belong to a stranger. The face belonged to a man who shared Alex's blood.  
  
When they left the Blackstone tonight, Candace was determined to give Alex a wonderful evening. While Alex had appeared to accept Gary's explanation for why he couldn't come over tonight and play, she knew that the path to acceptance had been emotionally draining for her son.  
  
But tonight would be just about the two of them, about a mother and son spending time together and shutting out the world. She would fix his favorite dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, and then they would snuggle together on the couch and watch "Peter Pan." It didn't matter that they had seen "Peter Pan" more times than she could count. It was Alex's favorite movie. She knew that the movie made him feel happy and safe. And the movie offered him an avenue of escape. Reality would knock on the door soon enough, tomorrow, but for tonight, they could dwell in a peaceful flight of fantasy.  
  
Reality would knock sooner than she had expected.  
  
She was in the kitchen preparing the spaghetti and meatballs. Alex was seated at the table. He was drawing. He stopped his task for a moment and inquired about the vegetables that she would be serving for dinner. She told him that she wasn't sure about the vegetables.  
  
"No lima beans, Mommy. Okay?" He requested, those beautiful sapphire eyes sparkling hopefully. Then he paused for a moment and for added insurance, he threw in an adorable puppy dog look.  
  
She had to suppress a laugh. "Okay, honey. No lima beans."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Mommy, promises are presents."  
  
She smiled. "Yes, honey. I know."  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
"Yes, honey."  
  
"I love you, Mommy."  
  
She felt her heart flutter, his voice and words wonderfully tickling her insides. "I love you, too, honey. I love you very much."  
  
He had given her a hug and kiss on the cheek. He said that he was going to his room and draw some more pictures for Gary's refrigerator. Before leaving, he added, "Remember Mommy. No lima beans. You promised. And promises are presents you give to people you love."  
  
Tears welled in her eyes as she watched him leave. She stood there for a moment, awestruck. Asperger's Syndrome threatened to hold his emotions for ransom, but sometimes released those emotions in a frenzied state. Asperger's Syndrome left Alex to suffer through interpreting a myriad of emotions that he didn't always understand and that were painfully confusing. Yet, Gary's words had emerged clearly from a cloudy existence. And now Alex had embraced those words and packed them in his arsenal of knowledge.  
  
Gary Hobson was an unexpected, but welcome blessing in their lives. While she placed her trust in the fact that Gary wouldn't walk away from them when things became difficult, a part of her still felt terrified and vulnerable over such unquestioned reliance. She saw how upset Alex had become when Gary couldn't come over tonight. Admittedly, she was upset, too. And she was jealous that he was going out on a date even as she told herself that she had no right to feel this way. They weren't a couple. He certainly had the right to date and to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. His friend had suggested that Gary might want "more" from this date. She watched Gary's face when that suggestion was uttered. He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Maybe he felt that way because he knew that the remarks had been overheard. She knew that he was a gentleman so the suggestive nature of the remarks had to have caused him some discomfort. She tried telling herself that if Gary and his mystery woman were to take their date to another level, an intimacy, that was none of her business so long as that made him happy and that he was careful. However, a nagging voice in the back of her head told her that she was kidding herself and that it would bother her. That same voice comforted her by arguing that Gary didn't seem to be that kind of man. He didn't seem to be the kind of man who took sex lightly as if it were some kind of game to prove his masculine prowess. She knew him to be a man capable of love and commitment. She sensed that embarking on the intimacy threshold for him had to involve love and commitment not just physical gratification.  
  
She mentally scolded herself. These were not healthy thoughts to be having about a man who was just her friend nor should she be having these thoughts in the midst of preparing her son's dinner.  
  
Yet, when the doorbell rang, she stupidly hoped that it was Gary and that he had changed his mind and had decided to have dinner with them after all. She hurried to the door. But when she opened the door, the man she saw was the last person that she had expected to see.  
  
"Hello, Candace." Lyndon Miller said in a dry, sterile tone void of emotion.  
  
She was speechless for a moment as she stared into the eyes of her former father-in-law.  
  
"May I come in?"  
  
She hesitated. After the angry words that she had exchanged with her former father-in-law when he called Alex "defective" and implied that he wanted nothing else to do with his only grandchild, she assumed that their familial ties had been permanently destroyed. She wanted to tell the man where he could go, but she realized that she couldn't do that. If he had come here tonight to make amends because he wanted to be a part of Alex's life, for the sake of her son, she owed him the opportunity to do that.  
  
"Yes. Please come in." She whispered.  
  
Lyndon Miller entered the apartment. He was a stately, distinguished looking man in his late fifties. He wore a black, double-breasted Armani suit. His dark black hair was thinning and sprinkled with gray. He had gray around his temples. His most complimented feature, his eyes, had not been dimmed by age. Those bright sapphire eyes sparkled. Alex had inherited those eyes.  
  
"How have you been?" He asked awkwardly.  
  
"Fine." She responded with an equal amount of awkwardness.  
  
"And the boy?"  
  
"Alex is fine. But he misses his grandparents. He doesn't understand why they don't visit anymore."  
  
A brief, yet excruciating silence.  
  
"Look, Candace. It wasn't easy for me to come here tonight so I'll get right to the point. Alan is finally doing well in his life, he finally has a sense of direction and I would hate to see him lose that."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Lyndon paused briefly before continuing. "I know that my son believes that he loved you, but the two of you were very young. What did you know about love? You were just kids. And I can understand that high school kids sometimes...well, they sometimes get carried away in the heat of the moment. Alan was a young man so naturally he would want to sow his wild oats and maybe a girl like you was all too willing to give him a good time. I had hoped that he would grow up and realize that you weren't the kind of woman he should marry, but he was stubborn. Maybe he just wanted to rebel against me. He should have never married you. I wanted so much more for my son. Nonetheless, I tried to accept you as a daughter-in-law because I wanted my son to be happy. The two of you weren't ready to be parents. I don't know...maybe you did something while you were pregnant and that's why the boy turned out that way. Or, maybe you led a life before you were with Alan and that's why the boy turned out damaged. All that doesn't matter now. What matters to me is Alan. He is doing well with his music and he has found a wonderful woman from a respectable family. He doesn't need you making demands on him. I'm here to make sure that you don't." Lyndon reached in his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a check. "Here is $200,000. That should be enough for you and that boy to make a new start. Maybe you can find a place for him to go to get help. I have also had my lawyer draw up some papers that state that once you accept this money, you relinquish all claims for child support. I'm sure that you'll see that this is for the best. All of you can move on with your lives. And you can get that boy the help that he needs."  
  
Candace stood there, numb. She looked into Lyndon's hateful eyes. Ever since she and Alan were dating, she knew that his parents were snobs. Lyndon owned a multinational corporation with interests in Maryland, Philadelphia, New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. And he wanted a blue blood daughter-in-law preferably hailing from old money. In Lyndon's mind, Candace's simple roots were unacceptable.  
  
Before she had a chance to respond to his venom and offer of blood money, a little voice appeared in the room.  
  
"Mommy? I'm hungry, Mommy."  
  
Lyndon turned around. A grandfather's cold and distant eyes locked with the innocent eyes of his grandson. But Lyndon didn't acknowledge Alex with warmth. Instead, he saw Alex as damaged goods, an embarrassment to be hidden away, a stain on the family name and pedigree. In his warped mentality, he wanted Alex to be like one of those overworked dogs in a kennel show expected to perform for a blue ribbon and accolades.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome, a disorder that Lyndon refused to understand, had stripped Alex of the proper pedigree. Lyndon looked at Alex with disdain as if he were in the presence of some mutt unworthy of his attention.  
  
"Grandpa?" Alex whispered tentatively and hopefully. Perhaps Asperger's Syndrome was merciful because Alex didn't rush to his grandfather but waited. Perhaps Asperger's Syndrome was the shield ready to protect Alex from the pain of rejection.  
  
Lyndon rebuffed the hopeful little voice. "Candace, I'll be going now. I'll leave this here to give you time to think about it. Give me a call when you've made your decision." With those words, Lyndon offered one last glance at Alex before leaving the apartment.  
  
Alex stood there silently. If there were tears, they were invisible. Maybe his soul was crying inside. Instinctively, Candace rushed towards him and held him tightly. It seemed as if that hug lasted for an eternity.  
  
"I'm hungry, Mommy."  
  
She quickly wiped away her own tears before he could see them. "Spaghetti and meatballs coming up." She said, the smile on her face effectively concealing her pain.  
  
They enjoyed a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, a salad with bleu cheese dressing, and rolls. And for dessert, they ate Boston cream pie. After dinner, they snuggled closely on the couch and watched "Peter Pan." The closeness allowed them to draw strength from each other. An hour later, Alex had fallen asleep. She gently carried him to his bed. "Peter Pan" would have to wait until another night.  
  
As she watched him sleep, the tears that she had been suppressing finally were unleashed. She had hoped that his grandfather 's visit meant that he really did love Alex and wanted to be part of his life. Instead, Lyndon's words cemented the hatred he felt for Alex, hatred born from ignorance.  
  
She was Alex's only family  
  
Finally, she proceeded to Alex's bed. She smoothed his hair and kissed him on the forehead before leaving his bedroom.  
  
The angry silhouettes stopped dancing. Maybe they were tired. Or, maybe they were finally accepting and were ready to move on from their pain.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Nine  
  
Her restless soul mirrored a formerly agitated moon as she tossed and turned in her bed. She craved for sleep. But sleep was a mirage in a desert of despair. And her tears had neither pacified her exhausted spirit nor offered a prelude to sleep.  
  
How odd.  
  
As a little girl, there were occasions when Candace had cried herself to sleep. Warm milk seemed preferable to salty tears as the cure for insomnia, but tonight none of these options provided an elixir. She was hurting. She was hurting so badly that her tears appeared to have effectively strangled her exhaustion, fed on it like some merciless glutton that failed to be satisfied. So even as her body shook from exhaustion, sleep was as cunning as a doubt agent eluding an army of pursuers.  
  
She lay awake. She turned over in her bed and glanced at the electric clock on the night stand. The red light on the clock's face announced 9:30.  
  
9:30 p.m.  
  
She reached for her robe resting comfortably at the foot of her bed, draped the robe around her body, and left her bedroom. She proceeded to her son's room.  
  
Alex's giggles were a beacon that illuminated her heart. She crept into his room and quietly approached his bed. He was still asleep. He was still clutching that remote control truck, but he was giggling, babbling happily even in his state of slumber. "Wait for me" she heard him say; his words were peppered with a few more giggles. She smiled even as a fresh lot of fugitive tears trickled from her weary eyes. It was Lyndon who was "damaged". He was a man so badly damaged by hatred and ignorance that it corroded his icy heart.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome wasn't a punishment that God had exacted upon an unspoiled life. Despite Alex's emotional confusion as he searched for the language to convey his feelings or the meltdowns that were often tumultuous and unforgiving, there was never a moment that she resented her son or felt cursed in being his mother. It was Alan and the Millers loss that they had been so blinded by their bias that they had voluntarily abandoned Alex and their chance to know such a special and wonderful little boy. This thought took root in her brain and gave her a modicum of comfort as she walked towards the living room.  
  
Maybe watching an old movie would get her mind off her troubles and help her to relax which would make it easier for her to fall asleep. With that decided, she walked towards the video cabinet and perused her enormous collection of tapes. A Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney classic was a proven gem capable of lifting her spirits. There was something about this dynamic duo that was pure magic on screen. Candace remembered Nana telling her that as the Second World War waged on, MGM's young powerhouses could make people forget their real life troubles. It didn't matter that these movies reeked of wholesomeness and innocence or that by today's standards they would be viewed as preachy. Their message was positive and hopeful and that's what viewers who continued watching wanted. Hope never went out of style.  
  
Candace removed a tape from the cabinet- "Babes in Arms". Yes, she could watch that movie. Garland's melodious voice belting out an array of tunes coupled with Rooney's flawless comedic timing were always a treat. And Rooney in character announcing "let's put on a show" as the solution to financial woes, seemed to convey a larger message. It was a message of hope, of working together as a team, and of never giving up. And despite the snafus of getting the show together, in the end song and dance, so simple yet so powerful always saved the day.  
  
If only real life could be that simple.  
  
She studied the tape for a long time before deciding against watching it. Perhaps a stirring musical wouldn't be such a good idea after all. She selected another tape, a love story this time- "First Love" starring Deanna Durbin and Robert Stack. "First Love" was a classic Cinderella tale with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks and the rich boy falling in love. She sighed. When she and Alan were dating, she had convinced him to watch old movies. He saw "First Love" and commented how their lives paralleled the lives of the characters on screen. He promised her that they could survive anything and that their love would last forever. And she had stupidly believed him. She felt a pang in her chest. No, she couldn't watch "First Love."  
  
Her fingers traced the other selections until those fingers seemed to pause knowingly and determinedly on another tape- "The Clock" starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. "The Clock", a bittersweet romantic tale set against the backdrop of the Second World War, told the story of two people meeting in a train station, falling in love, and getting married all within the man's few days' furlough from service in the war. The couple crammed a lifetime of living and loving in these precious days. And maybe, through the crowds in that station, their souls had cried out in whispers allowing them to hear each other and form a connection that even they didn't understand.  
  
She carried the tape over to the couch, placed it in the VCR, and began the movie. Her mind willingly embraced the notion of meeting and falling in love with a stranger over a short period of time because one's heart feels an inexplicable connection. Just as the movie began, she heard the doorbell. She stopped the tape and proceeded to the front door. Even as she walked towards the door, she was puzzled as to who could be visiting at this hour. She braced herself that it was Lyndon making an encore performance. But Alex was asleep this time and she was ready to say what she hadn't said earlier.  
  
As she opened the door, her eyes feasted on the unexpected visitor.  
  
"Hello, Candace." He said awkwardly. "I know that it's late, but may I come in?"  
  
She hesitated, but studied his eyes. "Of course. Come in."  
  
He entered the apartment. She closed the door. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck before speaking. "I just wanted...I just wanted to explain about tonight." Gary revealed.  
  
  
  
Chapter Forty  
  
Maybe words weren't necessary.  
  
He gazed into her eyes, so beautiful and vulnerable, and at her lips so luscious and inviting. He wanted to kiss her (again!). He wanted to kiss her very badly.  
  
What was he doing? He knew that he was moving too fast and that neither of them was ready for anything more than a special friendship, but his heart was telling him to take the risk. And at this moment, he wanted to listen with his heart.  
  
He walked towards her. She studied him, too, almost knowingly. She watched him as if she were anticipating his move, as if she wanted what he planned to do as much as he did.  
  
"Gary." She said breathlessly.  
  
He gently cupped her face. Then he took the risk and tenderly kissed her. Their lips were wonderfully in sync and burning with desire.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
The sound of her voice shook him from his reverie. It was just a daydream.  
  
"I...um...I'm sorry for just coming over here first without calling." He began awkwardly.  
  
"That's okay. I mean, how often do Alex and I barge in on you."  
  
"But I guess you were getting ready for bed." He observed.  
  
Instinctively, she pulled the belt of her robe tightly around her waist as if her modesty was in jeopardy of being compromised by the man in front of her. The intensity of those mud green eyes as he gazed at her made her feel exposed. His gaze felt as if he could see right through her robe and pierce her nakedness directly to her soul.  
  
"Actually, I couldn't sleep. I was just about to watch a movie. Can I get you anything?"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"So, how was your evening?" She asked.  
  
Do you really want to know about his evening? Do you really want to know about his date? Her inner voice questioned.  
  
"My evening? Actually, that's why I came over here tonight. I wanted to talk to you about that."  
  
Chuck had promised him an evening that he would never forget. But what it ended up being was an evening that he wanted to forget. They had arrived at the Hilton and proceeded to the restaurant. Their dates were already waiting for them. The maitre'd directed them to the table. He remembered that his palms felt sweaty. God, how he hated these uncomfortable first dates especially when his agreement had been coerced. He and Chuck handed their dates the bouquet of roses before sitting down at the table. He might as well been sitting in a dentist's chair for the discomfort he felt.  
  
Chuck hadn't exaggerated about the women. Melissa and Clarissa were very attractive and exuded an air of elegance and glamour sprinkled with intelligence and confidence. His date, Melissa, wore her long blonde mane in a French twist. Her sister allowed her tresses to dangle down her back unencumbered. Melissa had on a red crushed velvet dress with a matching jacket. Clarissa was dressed in a black pin-striped pantsuit. They were fraternal twins yet they bore a strong resemblance. Melissa was the youngest, but she was the talker. Clarissa seemed comfortable to follow her sister's lead. And the sisters finished each other's sentences in that eerie way that mesmerized onlookers, but didn't seem to faze them. Perhaps it was true that twins shared their own special "language."  
  
The waiter returned with the wine list and menus. The men ordered beers while the ladies selected white wine. For their appetizers, they all agreed on a seafood combination boasting of calamari, mussels, shrimp, and oysters. It didn't take long for the waiter to return with their drinks and appetizers. He barely took a bite of his shrimp before he felt full. It wasn't the seafood that had filled his belly, but disgust as Chuck's "innocent little white" lie began to sound as "innocent" as Watergate. Chuck painted a picture of himself as a venture capitalist successfully manipulating a corporate jungle and in the midst of orchestrating some hostile takeover. And he was no longer a freelance journalist hoping to sell his stuff to the Washington Post and the New York Times. Now he was a "seasoned" reporter who had written a scathing piece about the Enron debacle exposing the underbelly of fiscal mismanagement and the responsibility of a corporate entity for the liability of accountant's to third-party non-clients. Chuck's tale sounded so sickeningly convincing that the women believed him.  
  
But he had heard enough. Abruptly, he rose from his seat. He admitted to the ladies that he wasn't a reporter, but an unemployed stockbroker. He apologized for the deception and for ruining their evening before making a hasty exit out of the restaurant.  
  
He walked around for awhile. He then went home. His hotel room felt stifling somehow and he didn't want to stay there. He couldn't get Candace or Alex off of his mind so he decided to pay her a visit.  
  
"I was supposed to be on a date, but it didn't work out. I mean, I guess I didn't want it to work out." He said clumsily.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Chuck...Chuck is a good guy. We've been best friends for a very long time, but Chuck sometimes goes too far in doing things that he believes are for my own good. This date...it was...it was his idea. A blind date. I've always hated blind dates."  
  
"Me too."  
  
He smiled. "Anyway, what Chuck said when he stopped over my place tonight...what you probably overheard...I just needed you to know that..."  
  
She saw that he was struggling. "It's okay, Gary. What you do in your personal life is none of my business." She reassured.  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, their conversation was interrupted by an unexpected sound.  
  
"Mommy! Mommy! Help me!" Alex screamed.  
  
Chapter Forty-One  
  
Dark. It was so dark. And cold. It was dark and cold. He was so scared. His heart was pounding. But he kept running. His little legs propelled him forward. Running. He kept running. How come he couldn't fly anymore? How come Peter and the others left him? They were supposed to wait for him. They promised.  
  
But the monsters wouldn't wait. He could hear them in the darkness. They were mean. And they were getting closer. He knew it. He couldn't fly anymore. He kept running. Faster and faster. He was running for his life.  
  
Then he fell.  
  
He could see the bright and scary eyes of one of the monsters shining through the darkness. And he could feel it's hot breath of evil on him ready to strike.  
  
"Mommy! Mommy! Help me!" He screamed.  
  
Candace rushed into Alex's bedroom. The little boy was thrashing about desperately in the bed. He was drenched in sweat. The bed covers, succumbing to a fierce beating, were limp as they hung haphazardly off the bed and nearly kissed the floor.  
  
Tears streamed down Alex's face. Candace quickly proceeded to the bed. Carefully and gently, she lifted Alex from a tormented sleep and cradled him in her arms.  
  
"It's okay, honey. It's okay. Mommy's here. Mommy's here." She soothed as she gently rocked him back and forth.  
  
"Monsters. Bad monsters. They're after me, Mommy. They're going to get me, Mommy." He insisted. His body shook with fear.  
  
"No, they won't. Mommy won't let them."  
  
Gary stood at the doorway observing the tender and emotional exchange between mother and son. He remembered when he was a little boy suffering from nightmares. Mom was always there to comfort him, too.  
  
Candace held Alex for a long time. She continued talking to him and gently rocking him. Fifteen minutes later, Alex surrendered to the pleas of the Sandman as a succession of yawns, heavy eyelids, and the closeness of his mother lulled him to sleep. Alex's breathing seemed steady and relaxed now.  
  
Candace momentarily left the bedroom. Gary watched as she entered the bathroom, removed a wash cloth, turned on the faucet, and placed the wash cloth underneath the running water. She quickly returned to Alex's bedroom. Sitting on Alex's bed once again, she took the wash cloth and gently bathed the sweat from his forehead, arms, and chest. Alex remained asleep throughout his mother's loving ritual.  
  
She sat on the bed for another fifteen minutes just to be certain that the "monsters" wouldn't return. The corners of Alex's mouth were crinkled in a smile. Whatever he was dreaming about at that moment had once again contributed to a peaceful sleep. She smoothed his hair and kissed him on the forehead. Finally, she rose from the bed and walked towards the door. She stole one last glance at her son before she left his room. The Peter Pan night light assured that Alex's bedroom radiated a glow of hope to ward off total darkness. And she kept his bedroom door ajar so that she could hear him in case he needed her again. Gary followed her into the living room.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Alex hadn't had a nightmare that intense for awhile." She explained her voice shaky.  
  
"I can still remember a lot of the nightmares I had as a kid." Gary offered. "Mostly, they were about being trapped in high places where I couldn't get down and I was sure that no one would find me. But Mom was always found me. I remember that she was always there to comfort me after every nightmare and to let me know that I was safe. But heights...I never liked them. Maybe it's just an irrational phobia. But Mom and Dad were there to help me deal with my fear. I got stuck in a tree house once. I don't know what I would have done without Dad there to help me. I guess that I don't always appreciate them the way that I should, that sometimes that I see their actions as smothering, but I don't know what I would do without them. I love them very much."  
  
Candace grew silent as tears welled in her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong? Candace, are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm okay." She whispered unconvincingly.  
  
"No, you're not. Please tell me what's wrong? Please?"  
  
She gazed into those gentle mud green eyes that were so honest and sincere.  
  
"Alex isn't damaged. Having AS has made it difficult for him to handle and express his emotions, but that doesn't mean that he's damaged or defective. He's a wonderful and loving little boy. He doesn't say it, but I know that he needs love and understanding. He doesn't need for people to see him as a freak or to condemn him because AS makes it hard for him to control his behavior sometimes. He doesn't need pity. And he doesn't deserve to be rejected or hurt."  
  
"Of course he doesn't. Candace, did something happen tonight?"  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Candace?"  
  
She took a deep breath. "Lyndon, he's Alan's father, came over here tonight. Alan's parents never liked me nor really accepted me as a daughter-in-law. You see, they are affluent and I guess in their eyes I was never good enough for their son. I could have handled that, I did handle it, but what I didn't expect and what I can't handle is how they treat Alex. He's just a little boy and he's their grandson. You know what Lyndon said to me tonight? He implied that I must have done something while I was pregnant and that's why Alex turned out damaged. That's the word that he used, 'damaged'. And he couldn't even say Alex's name. He kept saying 'the boy', 'the boy' as if he were talking about some stranger. And there was such venom, such hate in his voice. Then he gave me this." She walked over to the table where the check and legal document lay. She picked up the items and handed them to Gary.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"It's proof of how Lyndon feels about his grandson. He's willing to pay all this money so that he doesn't have to deal with the embarrassment because that's all Alex is to him, an embarrassment. Lyndon said that Alan finally had some direction in his life and that he didn't want me making demands on Alan. I have never made demands on him. Lyndon thinks that I'll ask Alan for money, but I've never done that. Alan didn't love me...yes that hurts, it hurts very much, but the only thing that I want from him now was for him to be there for Alex, to be a father to his son and he couldn't even do that." She said, her voice a mixture of anger and pain.  
  
Gary stared at the check. But it was the legal document that rendered him wide-eyed especially when he saw the name of the law firm and attorney representing Mr. Miller.  
  
"I allowed Lyndon in here tonight because I stupidly believed that he loved Alex. I would have put my feelings about the man aside because I wanted Alex to have a relationship with his grandparents. But tonight I found out that Alex has no one except me. Alan deserted him. The Millers deserted him. My parents and Nana are dead. If something were to happen to me, Alex would be alone in this world. He would have no one to take care of him and to love him." Her words opened the floodgates to her pain and her tears flowed freely.  
  
Instinctively, Gary wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "No, he wouldn't. Alex does have someone who loves him very much and who would take care of him. I promise."  
  
She looked at him through pain-filled eyes. She understood him. He wiped a stray tear from her cheek before allowing her to sob into his chest. She had been so strong for so long. She needed a good cry. She needed to let go of some of her pain.  
  
But he wouldn't let go of her. Tonight, no one and nothing else mattered as he held her and allowed her to cry in his arms.  
  
Chapter Forty-Two  
  
Warm little fingers touched his face. It wasn't his usual wake up call, but it was enough to tell him that morning had arrived.  
  
He slowly opened his eyes. He tried to move, but discovered that he felt very stiff. But it wasn't just aching muscles that hindered his movement. He realized that he was sitting on the couch and that Candace's head was pressed against his chest. She was still asleep.  
  
Then he remembered.  
  
It seemed that Candace had cried in his arms for a very long time. He felt that he couldn't offer her much except to hold her and to let her know that she wasn't alone. He wanted to let her know that he cared. When she finally stopped crying, he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Then she apologized. She admitted to him how embarrassed she felt about breaking down in front of him like that. He assured her that there was no need to feel embarrassed. He reminded her that friends are there for each other through good and bad times and that friends don't expect each other to always be strong. He told her that friends are there to help each other through sorrow and pain and to hold on to for support when you need a good cry.  
  
It was late when she finally stopped crying. He didn't want to leave her so he had offered to spend the night. He blushed slightly when he realized the implication of his suggestion. She smiled and took control of the situation to save him the trouble of clarifying his good intentions. She suggested that they watch a movie. She wasn't sure if he was a fan of old movies. He said that he was and she recommended "The Clock". He admitted that he had never seen that movie before. She told him that she would make some popcorn and then they could watch the movie.  
  
They were like a couple of teenagers sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, and watching the movie. In that quiet time he was no longer the guy that gets tomorrow's newspaper today with the responsibility of saving lives and she was no longer a single mother struggling to give her son a stable life in an unstable world. The magic of "The Clock" had transported them into two silent, carefree voyeurs sharing the splendor of a timeless romantic classic.  
  
He enjoyed the movie very much, especially Candace's commentary during specific scenes. And he enjoyed teasing her when she got misty-eyed. And they both were laughing in spite of themselves. He didn't even remember either of them turning off the television.  
  
Mud green eyes met the joyous and sparkling sapphire eyes. Alex was smiling. He didn't expect to find Gary there so early in the morning, but there was no doubt that seeing his friend made the little boy very happy. Those little eyes appeared to dance excitedly.  
  
Candace began stirring. Finally, she opened her eyes, too. She realized that her head had been resting comfortably on Gary's chest. She quickly surrendered this position and sat up on the couch. At some point, the belt on her robe had loosened and her night gown was now exposed. Methodically, she tied the belt around the robe.  
  
Cat must have invited himself into the apartment to deliver The Paper at the usual time because he feline sat unnoticed on top of his bounty in far corner of the room. Cat appeared to be drinking in the scene before him with a bemused expression of his face.  
  
"Good morning, honey." Candace greeted her son as she lifted him from the floor onto her lap. She showered him with a kiss on the cheek. He reciprocated with a hug and a kiss. Then the little boy surprisingly and willingly left the comfort of his mother's lap and slip down onto the floor. She was confused until she saw that he had crawled into Gary's lap.  
  
"How are you doing, buddy?"  
  
"Alex." The little boy reminded.  
  
Gary smiled. " That's right. How are you doing, Alex?"  
  
But Alex didn't respond to the query. Instead, he looked at Cat and offered a giggle. Cat was licking himself then after his bathing ritual seemed complete he began wagging his tail deliberately.  
  
"Cat." Alex said indicating the feline.  
  
Both Candace and Gary glanced in Cat's direction. "Looks like we have an unexpected visitor for breakfast." Candace noted with a smile on her face.  
  
"Uh...that's my cat. He...um...likes to follow me. Kinda a separation anxiety thing. You know, pets not liking their owners out of their sight." Gary offered sheepishly. He shot a look at Cat.  
  
"Meow."  
  
Candace rose from the couch, proceeded to where Cat was sitting and picked him up. She cradled him lovingly in her arms. Cat purred contentedly. It was love at first sight.  
  
The Paper sat on the floor untouched.  
  
"Aren't you the most adorable cat." She gushed. "What a beautiful animal and look how sweet he is." Candace remarked.  
  
"Meow." Cat was definitely savoring the attention.  
  
Alex slid down from Gary's lap and walked towards his mother. He gestured that he wanted to pet Cat. Candace apparently understood because she put the animal down on the floor. Sapphire eyes stared at Cat then Alex reached out his hand to touch Cat. Cat was receptive offering an enthusiastic "meow" for the little boy.  
  
Gary took advantage of the momentary distraction to leave the couch and proceed to The Paper. Unnoticed, he picked up his early edition and began flipping pages. He reached page five with no story requiring his attention when the sound of Candace's voice broke him from his concentration.  
  
"Would you like to stay for breakfast?" She asked Gary.  
  
"Thanks, but I really should be going." He responded.  
  
"No. Stay for breakfast. Please?" Alex interjected. He flashed Gary the most adorable puppy dog look that he could muster to accentuate his plea.  
  
Both Candace and Gary laughed. "Now, how can I resist that look?" Gary remarked. "Okay, I'll stay for breakfast. But Alex and I want to make you breakfast. Right Alex?"  
  
Alex nodded.  
  
"You sit right there and we'll call you when breakfast is ready." Gary told Candace. Candace obliged by walking over to the couch and sitting down.  
  
"Come on, Alex." Gary took Alex's hand as the two guys proceeded to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.  
  
Chapter Forty-Three  
  
A calm flooded through her body as she sat on the couch, her eyes closed, for the perfect commune with the inner peace that she finally felt at that moment. She soaked in the calm, embraced it, and allowed it to bathe her skin clean of its earlier torment. The steady sound of her heartbeat and pulse rate seemed so wonderfully in sync that they, too, appeared grateful for the quiet. The intensity of her tears that the night before whipped her body and mind of its strength was but a distant memory now. This calm fed her body like the proverbial yoga that some New Age guru lauded. And for ten glorious minutes, she drank in the calm and let it fill her veins like a drug. It was so peaceful.  
  
Then there was a crash. And then another crash. It was the calm before the storm.  
  
The loud and intrusive noises jolted her from the tranquillity. She followed the noise that emanated from the kitchen. She wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her.  
  
Two of Nana's plates were shattered into pieces on the floor. The yolk from an egg made a desperate and messy escape fervently running down a counter. Errant blueberries graced the floor like pebbles along a stream. The charred bacon in the frying pan certainly didn't receive a noble death. But it was the flour adorning the walls like some unexpected blizzard from a clear sky that was the most telling.  
  
And the flour also covered two well-meaning faces that sported guilty, little boys in trouble looks. But it was hard for her to be angry with those two adorable pleading faces despite the destruction that had been raged in her kitchen.  
  
"Mommy, we had an accident."  
  
"Yes, I can see that."  
  
"We were making blueberry pancakes, bacon, omelettes, and toast." Gary revealed. "We had a little problem with the flour and the...um...eggs and the..."  
  
"Gary, fire!" Alex exclaimed. The little boy pointed to the flames sprouting up from the frying pan. Gary quickly grabbed a pot holder and "rescued" the frying pan from the stove. He placed the frying pan under the running water.  
  
"...bacon." Gary continued. "But Alex and I promised you breakfast and we're going to make you breakfast." He insisted. "Now you go back into the living room and we'll call you when we're finished." "If I leave now, will I have a kitchen to come back to?"  
  
"Alex, I don't think that your Mommy believes we can do this."  
  
"Of course I do. It's just..."  
  
"Just what? We had a few mishaps. Come on, give us a chance to prove it to you, will ya?"  
  
Candace looked at Gary then Alex. "Okay, I'll be out there. Call me when you're ready." She said with a trace of reluctance in her voice. She needed to have faith.  
  
Have faith or pandemonium. Or, in this case it was have faith "and" pandemonium. Still, she decided to allow them this opportunity.  
  
Candace walked back into the living room. She found herself smiling. Okay, so some of Nana's plates had been destroyed and couldn't be replaced. She was certain that Nana was smiling up in heaven and would approve of the culinary efforts as serving a good cause. The good cause was Alex's happiness. She could see the happiness etched on her son's face. Spending time with Gary was unquestionably a treat for Alex.  
  
She was only on the couch a few minutes before the doorbell rang. She rose from the couch and proceeded to the door. Without thinking, she opened the door. The early morning visitor was last night's emissary of hate.  
  
Lyndon didn't wait for an invitation. He rudely walked into the apartment.  
  
"You had last night to consider my offer. I was going to wait for your call, but I'm not a patient man. And I suspected that you wouldn't call. It's unfair of you to keep all of our lives on hold because of your foolish pride and you would be doing a disservice to yourself and that boy if you let that same pride cause you to sit on this offer any longer. I know that you're a smart girl." Lyndon said, condescension laced in his tone.  
  
"Candace, I forgot to ask, how do you like your eggs?" Gary asked as he emerged from the kitchen. Mud green eyes met Lyndon's hostile eyes. The older man looked at Candace, still in her robe, and then at the mysterious young man who seemed so comfortably at home during these early morning hours.  
  
Chapter Forty-Four  
  
It has been said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that is true, then Gary was getting a panoramic view into a soul reeking with hate through the eyes of a man he did not know. But Gary knew that stare all too well, a gaze that was insidious, judgmental and condemning. It was the same way that Mr. Roberts always looked at him.  
  
Lyndon studied the younger man intently. With the exception of those mud green eyes this stranger possessed, the man's resemblance to Alex was uncanny. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand what was happening between this man and Candace. The older man's blood was boiling.  
  
"Well, it looks like I'm interrupting something...something very cozy. You two should be ashamed of yourselves carrying on with this immoral behavior, this filth, and in the presence of the boy. I guess I should be grateful that one of you had the good sense to at least get dressed. What were you planning to do, serve her breakfast in bed and then continue with what you two started last night? Disgraceful, just disgraceful."  
  
Gary clenched his fists. It took everything he had to remind himself of his childhood teachings about respecting his elders. He wanted to deck this jerk! "Listen, pal, you have no right..."  
  
"And you, Candace," Lyndon continued allowing his venom to flow freely and completely ignoring Gary, "You're a much more clever girl than I gave you credit. Alan was always weak so I guess it was easy tricking him into marrying you that way you could obtain some respectability, some standing and class by being a part of our family. But you wanted to have your cake and eat it to, didn't you? Marry my son and continue playing with your boyfriend here. How did you keep your lover a secret? Was it that you didn't need to worry about Alan requesting a paternity test because he never suspected your indiscretions? Or, maybe he did. Maybe that's why he finally wised up and divorced you. You figured that you could pass off that damaged child as my grandson. Is that why you're holding out on my generous offer? But you never expected me to discover your secret, did you? You thought that you could call my bluff and I'd pay you more money. Well, young lady, that's not going to work. I'm not going to let you..."  
  
Gary moved closer towards Lyndon narrowing the space between them. Those usually gentle mud green eyes were blazing with an anger that was more intense than anything that he had ever known. And at this moment, he was willing to forego his childhood teachings. "You better leave and you better leave now!" He said forcefully.  
  
Candace was no shrinking violet and while she appreciated Gary's chivalry in defending her honor, this was one battle that she was more than capable of fighting on her own. It was a battle that had been brewing for a long time. "Gary, please, I can handle this." She assured. "Turning to Lyndon, she said, "How dare you come into my home with these accusations! You talk about filth. Well, the only filth here is you...you spewing your hatred and your lies. You have the nerve to question me and my character when you should be looking at yourself. I owe you no explanation because I've done nothing that I need to be ashamed of. No, no that's not true. I'm ashamed that I had the misfortune of falling in love with your son and becoming a part of your pathetic family. You never wanted a daughter-in- law. What you wanted was a pedigree. You wanted someone who could trace her lineage back to the Mayflower. Well, I can't do that. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was born with a plastic one. My parents didn't have much money, but they were rich in human decency something that you lack and something that you can't buy even with all your money. Because I wasn't some debutante you figured that you had the right to look down at me as being inferior. You want to talk about immorality? Let's talk about the immoral son that you raised. Yes, he divorced me, but not because he discovered that I had cheated on him. Alan has never questioned my love or my fidelity because he knew that he never had to. Alan knows that Alex is his son. But he willingly deserted him because Alex doesn't live up to some demented notion of perfection that Alan has created in his head. It's probably the same demented notion that he learned from you. But Alan didn't just divorce me. He divorced his son. And that's something that I don't understand and I won't forgive. That's what is immoral, divorcing his child, putting his own happiness above his son's happiness. And you're immoral because you would happily surrender your role as Alex's grandfather and to ease your conscience, if you even have a conscience, you do the only thing that immoral people like you who worship money would do, you wave that money in my face thinking that you can buy me. You believe that Alan finally has a sense of direction in his life, but you're wrong. Alan will never have any direction, any real direction, because he's too selfish for that. If he weren't the selfish son of a selfish immoral father he would have realized that the only direction that he should have ever considered was Alex's welfare. But he didn't love his son. And that's what's immoral and disgraceful." Candace proceeded to where the check and legal document was lying on the table and shoved the items in Lyndon's face. "You can take these filthy things because I don't want them. How about you use this money of yours as a donation to some animal rights group then you can brag to your country club and golfing buddies about what a wonderful, generous, caring person that you are. Lies, of course, but you're used to lying so that shouldn't be a problem."  
  
Lyndon took the documents. "You think that this over? Far from it, young lady. I will not allow my grandson to live in an environment with you and your boyfriend carrying on like this. I have a lot of clout. I'll make sure that you lose that boy."  
  
Candace's heart was pounding, but she refused to back down. "You're threatening me?! Well, if it's a fight that you want, I'm ready for it. Now get out of my home!"  
  
Lyndon didn't move.  
  
"The lady said leave. That means now, pal!" Gary demanded.  
  
Lyndon flashed an evil smile. "You will be hearing from me." Lyndon added before leaving the apartment.  
  
Candace was shaking. Instinctively, Gary wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.  
  
But neither one of them saw the sad little boy with the beautiful sapphire eyes who had crept into the room during the conversation and had been unnoticed by all the adults. Alex had heard everything.  
  
Chapter Forty-Five  
  
He saw Mommy crying. She was so sad. And he wanted to cry, too.  
  
As Alex entered his bedroom, his sapphire eyes locked for a moment with the big brown eyes that had often comforted him. Mr. Bear was his friend, but Mr. Bear didn't look very friendly right now. Maybe Mr. Bear knew the truth. He was a bad little boy. Perhaps Mr. Bear was mad at him, too.  
  
Mommy knew that he was bad boy that's why she was sad. He told Mommy that messing up the kitchen was an accident and she didn't seem mad, but she was very sad. He tried so hard to help Gary make breakfast without making a mess. Gary was going to put the eggs on the table, but he asked to help. He said that he could do it. He was a big boy. But then he dropped the eggs and they made a mess on the counter. And he was supposed to carry the blueberries, but they were so good and he wanted to eat some of them. But he dropped some of the blueberries on Mommy's kitchen floor.  
  
And he was a really bad boy in not eating his lima beans. Mommy said that they were good for him, but they tasted nasty and he didn't like them. So he would hide them in his pockets and throw them away when Mommy wasn't looking and when she asked him if he ate them, he would tell her that he had.  
  
That's why Daddy didn't love him and that's why Daddy left because Daddy knew that he was a bad boy. But Daddy was bad, too. When Daddy left, that made Mommy sad and she cried. Mommy was good, but Daddy still made her cry. He heard Mommy crying. Mr. Bear heard Mommy crying, too. He took Mr. Bear into Mommy's room. Mr. Bear said that he would hug Mommy and help make her feel better. Mommy smiled at him and Mr. Bear and she hugged them both. He knew that Mr. Bear made Mommy feel better.  
  
Gary made Mommy feel better and because of Gary she smiled a lot, too. He never saw Mommy's tears when Gary watched television with them or ate dinner with them. And Gary made funny faces that made him laugh. Gary taught him that funny face. And he used the funny face that Gary taught him and he showed it to Mommy so she wouldn't make lima beans.  
  
Gary was hugging Mommy just like Mr. Bear hugged Mommy, but she was still crying. Grandpa made Mommy cry. Grandpa was a bad man just like all those bad monsters. Maybe if he could be a good little boy and not make Mommy cry anymore, eat his lima beans, he, Mommy, and Gary could fly far away and hide from Grandpa and all the other bad monsters. Gary would show them how. Gary could do anything. Gary was better than Superman.  
  
Mr. Bear was still looking at him, but Mr. Bear didn't seem mad at him any more. Alex studied his friend intently for a few moments. In that silent stare, he and Mr. Bear were "talking", communicating to each other in their own special way. Then Alex nodded and walked over to his toy box. He pulled through all the toys in the toy box haphazardly flinging them onto the floor. He didn't want to hurt them, but he couldn't worry about their feelings right now. There was something very important that he needed to do.  
  
He found what he was looking for at the bottom of the toy box. He removed the yellow toy train from the toy box. He sat down on the floor, his gaze focused on that yellow toy train for a long time  
  
* * * * * *.  
  
Gary stopped hugging her and looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.  
  
Her tears were now gone and she had finally stopped shaking, but she was far from being okay. "I'm fine." She replied.  
  
"Candace, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't come here last night..."  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Gary. None of this is your fault. If Lyndon hadn't seen you here, he would have still found a way to show his hate. Hate doesn't need an excuse and it never takes a rest." She realized sadly.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"I'm a good mother."  
  
"You're a great mother." He corrected. "Anyone with half a brain can see that."  
  
She managed a weak smile. "About what I told Lyndon, you know, about being ashamed that I had the misfortune of falling in love with Alan, that wasn't true. Alan did give me something special, something wonderful. He gave me Alex. If I hadn't loved Alan, I would have never had Alex. And I can't imagine my life without Alex. I love him so much. If I were to lose him..."  
  
"You're not going to lose him. I would never let that happen. I promise."  
  
She smiled again.  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Scrambled."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"My eggs. You asked how I like them. I like them scrambled. Alex likes the yolks hard. He likes to draw smiley faces in the yolks with his fork." She paused briefly before continuing. "Let's go back into the kitchen. I don't want Alex to know what happened and I know that the two of you were looking forward to making me breakfast."  
  
When Candace and Gary entered the kitchen, however, they quickly discovered that Alex wasn't there. They proceeded to the little boy's bedroom. Both of them were unprepared for the sight that greeted them.  
  
Toys were strewn all over the floor. And in the middle of the chaos, on the floor near his toy box, Alex sat there rocking back and forth. Alex was crying and clinging tightly to Mr. Bear.  
  
Not too far from the little boy were the remnants of a yellow toy train that had been smashed into pieces.  
  
Chapter Forty-Six  
  
It wasn't a meltdown, but the sight of her anguished son affected her in the same way.  
  
People take so much for granted, even tears. How oddly contradictory those salty manifestations of sadness and pain can be. Crying. It is a reflection of sorrow and pain yet sometimes crying is the only thing that we have any control over and the only means to cleanse our souls.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome had often robbed Alex of the ability to fully express his sorrow and pain via his tears.  
  
She had seen Alex cry before, but not with the same intensity as he was exhibiting at this moment. On those other occasions, a few tears stained his face, but those tears seemed like wandering orphans, lost and bewildered. The tears appeared almost apologetic as if they had insinuated themselves upon a life that could offer them no salvation.  
  
Yet, this army of tears was like those vigilant troops from yesteryear that had invaded Normandy. They offered no apology and their plan of attack was merciless. Alex had surrendered completely to the strength of these conquerors. And perhaps Asperger's Syndrome was the surprising ally that allowed the tears to secure a stronghold.  
  
Fallen toys were unceremoniously strewn on the floor like fallen soldiers, wounded, but not dead. But there was one visible casualty of Alex's emotional war. It was unlikely that the yellow toy train had received a hero's death.  
  
His soul had cried out before, but in faint whispers. Now those whispers had been unleashed to their fullest potential. They were Furies feeding on their own pain. What had caused their liberation? How could they be pacified or contained?  
  
Candace rushed towards Alex. She dropped down to the floor next to him hugging him as tightly as he hugged Mr. Bear. She gently stroked his hair. She could feel his body shaking in her arms.  
  
"Mommy's here. Mommy's here. It's okay."  
  
"Ba..Bad...Mom...Mommy...ver...very bad." He managed to utter between sobs.  
  
"Mommy won't let those bad monsters get her baby. It's okay, honey. Mommy's here. You're safe." She assured, misinterpreting his words.  
  
"No. Mommy. I'm-I'm bad, Mommy. I'm...I'm bad." He revealed. He rested his head in her lap as a gut wrenching sob punctuated  
  
"No, honey. No. You're not bad." She comforted him.  
  
His sobs had lessened. He looked up at her, his beautiful sapphire eyes tortured as he struggled to find the words to let her know how he felt.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"No, Mommy. I'm bad. Mess in the kitchen. Don't eat my lima beans. I'm bad. Daddy left. Daddy doesn't love me. I'm bad. I'll be good, Mommy. I'll be good."  
  
"Daddy does love you. Daddy just...Daddy just can't live with us anymore."  
  
"No! Daddy doesn't love me. I'm bad. Daddy...Grandpa....bad. Made you cry. I won't make you cry anymore, Mommy. I'll be good, Mommy. I promise. Don't leave me, Mommy. Okay? Don't leave me. I'll be good."  
  
Candace felt a pang in her chest. She understood. Alex had overheard her conversation with Lyndon. He had heard her remarks about Alan. She knew that he didn't understand everything that she had said to his grandfather, but he had heard her say that Alan didn't love him. He didn't understand that his father was a selfish man who put his needs first which made him incapable of truly loving another person. She had wanted to shield him from that revelation. She had promised herself that regardless of how she felt about Alan deserting his son, she would never let Alex grow up thinking that his father didn't love him. But she had allowed Lyndon's venom to unintentionally cause her to break this promise. She would never forgive herself for that.  
  
"Mommy would never leave you." She told him as she comforted him.  
  
Gary had been standing silently by all this time drinking in this poignant scene and his heart ached for both Candace and Alex. Perhaps he had no right to interfere in this moment, but he cared about the both of them too much to stand around and do nothing. He proceeded to where Candace and Alex were sitting on the floor. He dropped down on his knees next to them.  
  
"Alex?" He whispered.  
  
The little boy looked up. Mud green eyes locked with sapphire eyes.  
  
"We're friends, right?"  
  
Alex nodded.  
  
"And you know that I wouldn't lie to you, right?"  
  
Alex nodded again.  
  
"Alex, you're not bad. Sometimes...sometimes adults...adults do things that we don't understand, but it doesn't mean that what they did was our fault. I don't know your daddy. I don't know why he left or why he made your mommy cry, but it wasn't because you were bad. It's not your fault. It's not your mommy's fault."  
  
Alex was studying him intently, but Gary wasn't sure whether the little boy really understood what he was saying.  
  
"I love you, Alex." He continued.  
  
"You won't leave me?" Alex asked softly.  
  
"I won't leave you. I promise." Gary replied.  
  
"Promises are presents." Alex said.  
  
He looked at Alex then Candace. He smiled. "Yes. Promises are presents that you give to people you love. I love you, Alex." With those words, Gary enveloped both Candace and Alex in a hug.  
  
It didn't matter to Gary that they weren't a "family" in the traditional sense of the word. For Gary had listened with his heart and the sound he had heard told him that Alex and Candace were his family in the place that really mattered.  
  
Chapter Forty-Seven  
  
The sun seemed exhausted as it relinquished its control to the emerging darkness of evening.  
  
Gary was exhausted, too, as he entered The Blackstone. In the last few weeks of answering The Paper's call, he knew that it was a jealous and possessive mistress. His days gravitated around fulfilling The Paper's demands and it seemed that the more he had given of himself to The Paper, the more that The Paper wanted to take from him. For as much as he wanted to say no to this mistress, to tell her that he didn't have time for her, the more she required of him. He knew that The Paper wouldn't take no for an answer. And he wondered if he would even have the strength to say no.  
  
Today, however, The Paper wasn't the culprit in his exhaustion. The Paper had offered him mild stories where his earliest save didn't occur before noon. It wasn't his body that was rendered exhausted, but his mind. Gary had allowed himself to be a conduit for Alex's emotional turmoil and the experience had proven to be more draining than he could have ever imagined.  
  
It seemed like he, Candace, and Alex had sat on that floor hugging for a long time. Finally, his stomach had growled, roaring so loudly that it had provided unexpected levity to an intense situation. He blushed slightly from the embarrassment while Alex giggled. But his belly refused to be ignored, growling impatiently a few more times for attention. Candace accepted the cue and suggested that they should go into the kitchen for breakfast.  
  
Candace decided that it would be easier if she made breakfast. Realizing that Alex might interpret her suggestion as an indication that she really believed that he was bad in messing up the kitchen, she added that she wanted to make breakfast for her "boys" and as a mother, she could do it quickly and put an end to the growling stomachs. She was "Superwoman" in the kitchen and it was a skill that a mommy was given. Alex appeared to accept her argument. He and Gary sat down at the kitchen table while Candace prepared the meal. It wasn't long before the smell of blueberry pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast permeated the kitchen. When Alex received his eggs with their hard yolks, he very methodically made a smiley face in the yolks with his fork. He proudly showed Gary his handiwork receiving praise on his "good job".  
  
Cat had allowed Gary to finish his breakfast before strutting into the kitchen and letting out a "meow" to alert Gary to The Paper. Gary removed The Paper from the back pocket of his jeans. He turned the pages and located a few stories that he needed to handle. He rolled The Paper back up and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans. He announced to Alex and Candace that he had to leave. Alex was visibly upset. He told the little boy that he had to leave for now but that didn't mean that he was leaving forever.  
  
The slip and fall at noon was followed by an assortment of other disasters that he was charged with preventing. These disasters kept him busy for the rest of the day and into the early evening. Now, as nightfall washed over Chicago, he walked down the hallway towards the hotel room that he called home. He placed his key into the lock and opened the door. A guy who craved the "American Dream" of wife, kids, and a house with a white picket fence was returning home to emptiness.  
  
Except he wasn't.  
  
Gary found an unexpected and uninvited guest sitting on his couch.  
  
"How did you get in here?" He asked.  
  
"It's good to see you, too, buddy." Chuck replied. "Boswell let me in. I called you last night and I stopped by this morning. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer."  
  
"I wasn't here last night. I was with Candace."  
  
Chuck looked at Gary, a bemused expression on his face. "Really? You spent the night with Candace, huh? Did you two..."  
  
Gary flashed Chuck an annoyed look.  
  
"What? You would have asked me the same thing." Chuck said innocently.  
  
Gary flung his keys on an end table then proceeded to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer. Chuck rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen.  
  
"I went over to see Candace to explain about your comments regarding my date. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea because of what you had said. We were talking when Alex had a nightmare. She finally got him to go back to sleep, but I could tell that she was upset about something other than the fact that Alex had a bad dream. She told me that her ex-father-in- law had stopped by earlier. That man is a real piece of work. He could care less about Alex. Do you know what he called him? Damaged. How could a grandfather feel that way about his grandson? Anyway, Candace was telling me about the guy and she got very upset and I didn't want to leave her like that. We watched a movie and ended up falling asleep on the couch. This morning Candace's father-in-law showed up again at her apartment, saw me there, and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Then he made all kinds of threats. I tell you, Chuck, he has to be the most despicable person that I have ever met. He thinks that having money gives him the right to mistreat Candace and Alex. Well, there's no way that I'm going to allow Lyndon Miller to hurt her or Alex."  
  
"Lyndon Miller? Big corporate mogul with all these companies? That Lyndon Miller?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
"Gar, buddy. You're in way over your head. You don't want to mess with that guy."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Why is that? Buddy, there are some things that you need to know about Lyndon Miller."  
  
  
  
Chapter Forty-Eight  
  
"Do you remember Oasis Enterprises?" Chuck asked. "Yeah. The company that got into some legal troubles a few years ago." Gary replied. Gary opened his bottle of beer and took a sip.  
  
"Some legal trouble? That's like saying that the Titanic sprung a little leak. Oasis was in deep with the Justice Department. Anti-trust and RICO violations. There was even talk that the company had mob ties. Investors were running scared. Stock plummeted. A lot of big wigs were indicted and are now enjoying luxurious accommodations in prison, not real prison, but those designer prisons that look more like country clubs for those criminals who have money."  
  
"What's your point, Chuck?" Gary asked, his tone slightly annoyed. His day had been exhausting and he wasn't in the mood for one of Chuck's tangents that had more twists and turns than the expressway.  
  
"My point is guess who is the head of Oasis? Lyndon Miller. His company weathered the rough spots. He even held a press conference claiming that he had no idea what some of his corporate officers were up to. He ended up sounding like a martyr while others took the fall. And the public ate up his innocent act. Stock bounced back and the company is now one of the hottest commodities traded on the market. Miller never lets his hands get dirty. Whatever bad press or scandal there is that becomes connected to his company, he somehow always manages to deflect it away from himself. I believe those rumors about organized crime. He seems like 'The Godfather' type. I just don't want you to end up being paid a visit by a couple of goons with brass knuckles. You quit your job and you live in this dump. You refuse to use The Paper for financial gain. I don't think that you have insurance to cover those broken ribs that you're likely to get by being on Miller's bad side."  
  
"You've been watching too many gangster movies, Chuck."  
  
"And you're not taking this seriously, Gar. Okay, you saved the kid from getting hurt that's good, but why become so personally involved? He's got emotional problems because of As...Asp...ah...that Asparagus disorder or whatever you call it. And you can deny it all that you want, but I know that you have feelings for that boy's mother. Why else would you have blown a perfectly great opportunity with a very attractive, very intelligent single woman? I'm only thinking about your welfare that's why you'll notice that I didn't say anything about how inconsiderate you were in deciding to play 'Mr. Honesty' last night thereby ruining any chance I had with Clarissa. You said it yourself that Miller came by the apartment this morning, saw you there so early, and jumped to the wrong conclusion. I saw that kid. He looks so much like you that he could be your son. You told me that Marcia even suspected that you were the boy's father. If Marcia who knows you could believe that you were having...ah....that you were engaging in extracurricular activities while you were dating her and you ended up fathering a child with another woman, why is it so difficult for you to believe that Miller, who doesn't know you, could be thinking the same thing? The guy probably took one look at you, put two and two together and came up with a dirty little secret. And now he's seething. His son married a woman that he felt was unworthy and had a kid. Then the son divorced the woman and deserted the kid. Miller probably sees the mother and kid as a stain on his family and now he sees you and he's thinking that the kid isn't even his grandson."  
  
"He knows that Alex is his grandson. He said he believed Candace about that." Gary argued.  
  
"He may have said that he believed her, but that doesn't mean that he actually does. And he's probably feeling very angry that she had the nerve to pass off her illegitimate child as his grandson. He's probably thinking that the two of you cooked up this whole scam as a way of bilking him out of a fortune and he's going to make both of you pay for that."  
  
Chuck walked towards Gary narrowing the space between them. He placed his hand on Gary's shoulder. "What I'm saying here, Gar, is that you just made an enemy with a very powerful man with questionable connections. You need to get out now, cut all ties with that woman and her son while you still can."  
  
"I can't do that."  
  
"Then you need to watch your back. You have to realize something about the rich, Gar, in case you didn't know it already."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"They aren't like the rest of us. And I'm not just talking about their multi-million dollar homes, incredible cars, and Lear jets. I'm talking about their attitude about following the rules that all of us poor slobs are expected to follow."  
  
"Following the rules?"  
  
"Yeah. We follow them...well, we try to follow them because we know that if we don't we'll land in trouble. Rich people believe that they're above the rules that apply to the rest of us. They resent these rules. So they make up their own rules. It's their game, Gar, and they've got the money to play it."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Chuck looked at his watch. "I better be going." Chuck started for the door. Before opening it, he turned back around to face Gary. "Buddy, remember what I said. Watch your back. Oh, and by the way, you can ignore that message from me on your answering machine. I kinda wasn't too happy with you for ruining my date when I left that message last night. Talk to you later." With those words, the whirlwind that was Chuck Fishman left the hotel room.  
  
Gary stood there, dazed for a moment. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Oh Boy." He wasn't sure what he had gotten himself into, but one thing that he knew for certain was that he wasn't going to desert Candace and Alex no matter what happened next.  
  
Chapter Forty-Nine  
  
They were waiting for him very early the next morning. He wasn't even sure how they had found him so quickly. Worst still, even The Paper couldn't help him. And what were they going to do to him?  
  
Maybe he should have listened to Chuck.  
  
Despite everything that had happened in the past few days and the mental agitation he had felt, he was surprised when he had surrendered to a peaceful sleep last night. But the sands had rushed fervently through the hourglass, their pace desperate, and before long the still of night had been transformed into a curious and impatient morning. Chicago was dressed in a bewitching fog this morning, a misty overcast that baffled meteorologists who promised sun, clear skies, and unseasonably warm temperatures. If the fog were foreboding, weaving its own spell with a unique brand of mischief, doom trapped in its hush, he couldn't tell. The weather held no prophecies of the future. That honor belonged to an early edition of the Sun-Times with its own faithful emissary of an orange tabby.  
  
"Meow." Thump.  
  
And so his day had begun.  
  
He was not a morning person so after silencing the alarm clock with a vengeful hand, he grabbed his pillow and held it tightly over his head to drown out Cat's cries. The tactic proved futile as the meows became more intense and more frequent like the steady labor pains of an impending birth. Defeated, he pulled back his bed covers, rubbed his hands on his face to awaken his fatigued stupor, and proceeded to the door. His sock clad feet made a strange squeaking sound as they made contact with the floor. Those socks along with the Chicago Bears sweatshirt and pants had been the sleeping attire of choice to ward off the chilly night Chicago air. He opened the door. Just as he bent down to retrieve The Paper, his eyes met the four pairs of Italian loafers. He looked up and stared into the unfriendly faces of two beefy men in dark suits. His instincts told him that the men in black didn't have a noble purpose for their early morning visit.  
  
Watch your back.  
  
His heart was pounding as he stood up straight. "May I help you?" He asked hoping that his nervousness wouldn't betray him.  
  
His question was answered by one of the men pulling out a gun and pressing the cold barrel into his ribs and uttering a menacing "let's go." His mud green eyes glanced at Cat as if he were conveying a silent plea for help. But Cat was hardly accommodating. The feline ran into the room and made himself blissfully at home on the couch.  
  
He was a hostage sandwiched between his abductors as they walked down the long hallway towards the elevator. And he continued as a helpless victim alone in the elevator with these silent aggressors. The telling ring of each passing floor was like a death knell.  
  
As he entered the lobby, he passed Boswell. "Good morning, Mr. Hobson." Boswell greeted him.  
  
He needed to give Boswell a clue that he was in trouble without alerting his captors.  
  
"Boswell. Ah...Boswell, make sure that you bring those roses up to my room for my wife. She'll kill me if I forget our wedding anniversary."  
  
"Your wife, Mr. Hobson?" Boswell replied confusion evident in his tone.  
  
He felt the gun dig deeper into his ribs. If Boswell had missed his cry for help, these men hadn't.  
  
He didn't say anything else as he was ushered out of The Blackstone. The fog had oddly disappeared as if it had delivered its invitation of disaster and had returned home victorious. He walked with the men guiding his steps a few blocks until they directed him towards an alley.  
  
"Um...listen fellas...this...this is probably some kind...some kind of misunderstanding that I'm sure that we can...we can work out." He stammered.  
  
He was slammed up against the wall. One man removed a glove from his hand. Then he saw them, shining, the glow not intimidated by the confinement of the alley. Brass knuckles.  
  
"Lis...lis...listen to me...I...I don't know what this is about, but...but you got the wrong guy."  
  
The man with the brass knuckles let out a sadistic laugh. "Wrong. The boss says that we got the right guy." The first blow was delivered to his stomach with such force that he doubled over in pain. He was lifted from his position of agony as if he was some inconsequential rag doll and slammed against the wall once more. The brass knuckles met his body for a succession of hard blows pounding on his chest as mercilessly as a boxer in training pounds on a punching bag. He couldn't breathe anymore through the pain. He fell to the ground.  
  
Then he heard a click. His pain-filled mud green eyes looked up and saw the gun aimed at him. And then he felt the final pain of...  
  
"Meow."  
  
He landed on the floor with a resounding thump. He opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen out of his bed.  
  
It had just been a horrible dream.  
  
He pulled himself off of the floor and headed for the door. He was about to open it when he heard a knock at the door. He hesitated briefly before opening it.  
  
"Marissa." He greeted his early morning visitor.  
  
Chapter Fifty  
  
Angels don't always appear with gossamer wings or enveloped in a surreal  
  
light. Sometimes they come to your door wearing the face of a friend. And  
  
two hearts can be so marvelously attuned to each other that the frenzied  
  
beat of one heart becomes a profound Morse Code, a silent plea for help and  
  
understanding that echoes from the distance.  
  
"Good morning, Gary."  
  
"Good morning, Marissa. Please come in." He moved to the side to allow her  
  
to enter the room. She walked through the door, proceeded to the couch, and  
  
sat down.  
  
"Meow." Cat's cry came from the hallway.  
  
"And what are you waiting for?" He said to Cat.  
  
"Meow." Was Cat's response before he accepted Gary's "invitation" and ran  
  
into the room. Gary shook his head over Cat's antics before bending over to  
  
pick up The Paper.  
  
Gary closed the door and proceeded to the couch where he sat down next to  
  
Marissa.  
  
"Can I get you anything? Coffee?"  
  
"No, thanks." She said.  
  
He could feel a wave of perspiration running possessively down his chest and  
  
drenching his sweatshirt. His heart was racing offering a forceful overture  
  
inside of his chest. And he suspected that his face was probably ashen.  
  
All of these "symptoms" were delayed reactions to his nightmare. He prayed  
  
that they would soon pass. And he was grateful at this moment that Marissa  
  
couldn't see him. He knew that she would be worried about him.  
  
"I know that you've been researching Asperger's Syndrome." She began. "I  
  
was on campus yesterday because I'm thinking about going back to school for  
  
my Psych degree."  
  
"Really? That's great."  
  
"I'm just thinking about it, Gary. I'm not sure if I can do this. I mean,  
  
me in class with all those kids."  
  
He smiled. "You in class with all those kids...they better watch out.  
  
You'd give them a run for their money. I think that you should do it. You'd  
  
make a great psychologist."  
  
She returned his smile. "Thanks. I guess that I do have the perfect  
  
subjects to practice on."  
  
"Howzat?"  
  
"You and Chuck." She teased.  
  
"Me and Chuck. Ha. Ha. That's funny."  
  
"Anyway, I stopped at the library and was doing my own research on  
  
Asperger's Syndrome. There's a graduate student named L. Ramirez who is  
  
working on his dissertation focusing on Asperger's. He has also published  
  
papers in a few psychology journals explaining his theories about  
  
Asperger's. Apparently, his interest and motivation stems from the fact  
  
that his son Tomas has Asperger's. I heard some Psych students mention that  
  
Ramirez is giving a talk tonight at 7:00 p.m. in the student union on one of  
  
his papers 'Silent Screams and Asperger's: A Quest Towards Unlocking A  
  
Child's Emotional Prison.' I thought that you'd want to go. It would  
  
probably help you to understand more about Asperger's. It could be  
  
interesting hearing about it from a male's perspective."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Gary arose from the couch. He walked a few feet away from the couch, his  
  
back towards Marissa.  
  
Marissa sensed that something was bothering him. "Gary? Gary, are you  
  
okay?"  
  
He turned back around. He nervously twisted his wedding ring.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Marissa, do you believe that things happen for a reason?"  
  
"Yes, I do." She responded not sure why he had asked the question.  
  
"I mean, things happen not because of fate or The Paper but because they  
  
were supposed to happen. I mean, because we need for them to happen even if  
  
we don't understand why they happen or even if it hurts so much when  
  
something happens? I thought that when I married Marcia...," He hesitated  
  
briefly to consider his words,"...when I married her, I thought that we  
  
would be married for the rest of our lives. That we would have children  
  
together. I thought that I would love her for the rest of my life. But  
  
now..."  
  
"...you've fallen in love with someone else, something that you never  
  
expected, and you're scared." Marissa surmised.  
  
Chapter Fifty-One  
  
"No. No, of course I'm not in love with anyone else. " Gary said defensively. "I was just going to say that but now instead of being a married man I have to adjust to being a bachelor again and it's not that easy. Chuck acted like he was doing some kind of public service by fixing me up on a blind date and expecting me to go along with his stupid lie about being some famous freelance journalist. I hated blind dates when I was in college and I hate them now. It wasn't supposed to be like this. My mom and dad were the best role models for the institution of marriage. How could I have still failed at it? How could I have not seen all the warning signs with Marcia and done...I don't know, done something, anything, to save our marriage before it was too late?"  
  
"Are you sure that what you're really wondering about here is how you could have saved your marriage and not why you're feeling the way you feel about Candace this soon after your divorce? You have to be honest with yourself, Gary."  
  
He stared at her dumbfounded that she could read so easily into his soul despite his protestations to the contrary. There was only one other person he knew who had that talent- his mom. When it came to uncovering his romances, Mom was as skilled as the CIA sifting through covert operations. Correction: she was better than the CIA. It didn't even seem like she required much information to unravel the mystery. Mom could take the subtlest clues and before long have a complete dossier about his dream girl.  
  
Gary remembered when he was in high school and he first became interested in Genie Berlatski. He wanted to ask her out on a date, but he was nervous that she would turn him down. So he had spent days rehearsing in his bathroom mirror before resolving that he would ask Genie out on Friday. He had also been very careful not to let it slip around his parents that there was a girl at school that he was interested in. He wasn't in the mood for Daddy's teasing or Mom insisting that he bring his girlfriend over to the house for dinner so that they could meet her. But Mom somehow found out about Genie and before he knew it he had been coaxed into inviting Genie over the house for dinner and "The Hobson Inspection". "The Hobson Inspection" was always a prelude for indigestion and embarrassing parental reflections that Mom masked as sweet anecdotes about his childhood (like he wanted a girl that he was trying to impress to know that he cried like a baby his very first day at school when he learned that his mommy was going to leave him alone with a group of strangers). Mom sighed wistfully as she related the tale, a small tear captured in her eye recalling the memory. Genie also smiled politely. Dad sported an amused grin. And he...well, he prayed that someone would shoot him right there at the dinner table to put him out of his misery.  
  
But this wasn't his mother and he wasn't in high school anymore.  
  
"I'm not in love with Candace." He insisted.  
  
"But you have strong feelings for her and you don't understand how you could be feeling what you're feeling so soon after your divorce. And you're scared, aren't you?"  
  
She was right. All of this was happening so fast. He couldn't breathe through the intensity of his emotions. He tried convincing himself that the only thing that he and Candace shared was their love for Alex. But he remembered how it felt to kiss her. He remembered how warm her body felt against his as they sat snuggled on the couch watching that movie. His brain was telling him that they both weren't ready for anything more than a special friendship. Yet, his heart was imploring him to listen...listen with his heart and he would hear the answer that he sought.  
  
Perhaps the tune that his heart was playing wasn't a symphony for lovers but a concerto to vulnerability, a tormented overture flourishing in the hollowness of failure. He and Candace...they were two battle-scarred cynics, walking wounded it seemed, negotiating through the betrayal of the ones that they had loved. Both of them wore the symbol of such betrayal; his own blazing scarlet letter "F" for failure had found a twin in hers, someone to commiserate with and hopefully draw strength from in their shared pain. But vulnerability didn't suggest love. Neither of them was ready to cross that emotional threshold. The fact that both of them had refused to remove their wedding ring was proof of that.  
  
Still, he felt something strong and powerful for her, something that he couldn't deny. He felt it just being around her. He felt it whenever he looked into her eyes or touched her. And he felt it when he kissed her.  
  
And as strange as it sounded and as guarded as he usually was in revealing his emotions, he needed to talk to someone about what he was feeling.  
  
He took a deep breath before speaking. "You're right. I do have strong feelings for Candace and I don't know why. It's too soon." He paused briefly before continuing. "And I'm scared." He finally admitted.  
  
Chapter Fifty Two  
  
Last night, the monsters had arrived. But these monsters didn't sport sharp fangs that longed to bite into the sweet and innocent flesh of youth. They didn't have hot breath that burned the skin of their prey as they closed in for their attack. They didn't have eyes afire with evil as they rejoiced at the fright that they inspired and the begging of their victim for mercy when no mercy would be forthcoming. No, these monsters didn't exist in dreams, hovering in the subconscious. They were an invincible trio of monsters named anxiety, rejection, and abandonment born and fed from the strength of Asperger's Syndrome. And they lived within a little boy's soul, unwelcome squatters who had found a home.  
  
Candace was awakened from her sleep by warm little fingers touching her face. She opened her eyes. The moon, perhaps vainglorious with its splendor, shone brilliantly against the curtains illuminating the silhouette of the little boy. She sat up in the bed, turned on the lamp, and gazed into the beautiful sapphire eyes that were her beacon.  
  
"I'm bad, Mommy. Nobody loves me."  
  
She reached out her arms and lifted him onto the bed. "You're not bad. Mommy loves you."  
  
His eyes tore at her heart with the sadness that they portrayed. If those eyes were searching for understanding conveyed from her words, Asperger's Syndrome had held such understanding hostage. Words weren't going to be enough. She motioned for him to lie down next to her and gently stroked his hair. As they snuggled, she repeated, "Mommy loves you." He looked at her, but his face registered no emotion.  
  
The heavens began to cry. A steady downpour emerged as pellets hit against the window pane vehemently expressing their sorrow. This sorrow mirrored the sorrow of a mother trying to reach out to her son who was trapped in his own emotional prison and a son who felt unloved. Finally, the potent sound of the rain, like the sad strains of "Madame Butterfly", had lulled Candace and Alex to sleep.  
  
The next morning, the sun made an anticipated appearance painting the Chicago streets in a marvelous glow as even the sidewalks shined. And a little boy who had wrestled with his inner demons the previous night was now sitting on the living room couch watching cartoons. He was giggling. Candace was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Periodically, she peeked into the living room to check on him. Alex seemed enchanted by the cartoon.  
  
Candace decided to take Alex to Lincoln Park today since the weather reports boasted plenty of sun along with unseasonably warm temperatures. She knew how much Alex loved the park. She remembered the last time that she had taken him to Lincoln Park and how mesmerized he seemed when he saw a robin. The beautiful bird with its flaming chest was oddly misplaced amongst its cousins the pigeons. She sensed that Alex felt a special kinship with that robin.  
  
Suddenly, the giggles had stopped. Concerned, Candace left the kitchen and went into the living room only to discover that Alex was gone. She walked the hallway towards his bedroom. The door was opened and she could hear his slightly raised voice. When she looked into the room, she was unprepared for the sight that greeted her.  
  
Alex was sitting on his bed. He had Mr. Bear over his lap. He soundly spanked Mr. Bear coupling the punishment with these words: "You are bad boy. Nobody loves you. You are bad." He said those words repeatedly as he beat the helpless teddy bear. The punishment lasted for a few moments before Alex stopped. He flung Mr. Bear haphazardly on the bed.  
  
Candace quietly entered the room. She proceeded towards the bed. She sat down next to Alex. Gently, she picked up Mr. Bear and cradled him lovingly in her arms. "You're not bad, Mr. Bear. Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you." She reassured with her caresses. Alex stared at her while she spoke. A moment later, Alex inched closer towards her. She wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him on the forehead before alternating kisses between him and Mr. Bear. "Mommy loves you." She reiterated to both of her "boys."  
  
The doorbell rang. She hesitated about leaving Alex to answer the door. But the ringing was persistent. She kissed Alex one last time before leaving his bedroom, proceeding to the front door, and opening it.  
  
"Candace Miller?" The tall, middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair and bottle rimmed glasses holding a manilla folder inquired.  
  
"Yes? May I help you?"  
  
"Mrs. Miller, I'm Mrs. Peabody with Social Services. This is about your son. May I come in?"  
  
Candace was confused, but she permitted Mrs. Peabody to enter the apartment closing the door behind the woman.  
  
"Mrs. Miller, we received a report against you alleging neglect and child abuse on the minor child...," Mrs. Peabody paused as she opened her folder to take a look, "...Alexander."  
  
"You what?! That's ridiculous!"  
  
"Mrs. Miller, I'm empowered by the State of Illinois to investigate these charges and to make a determination as to whether or not they are unfounded."  
  
"Of course they're unfounded. Who made the report?"  
  
"I'm not at liberty to reveal that information. The caller informed Social Services that your live-in boyfriend was yelling at Alexander. Loud sounds were heard followed by the child's screaming. I'm here to talk to Alexander and to check him for bruises. Understand Mrs. Miller that if you refuse me access to Alexander I shall be forced to return here with the police and have the child immediately removed from your custody and placed into temporary foster care."  
  
Chapter Fifty-Three  
  
A little boy wasn't the only one who had to battle monsters.  
  
Candace had fought many monsters before. The day that she and Alan discovered that Alex had Asperger's Syndrome, she waged a war against the monsters of guilt, anger, and self-doubt. As irrational as it sounded, she searched her mind for what she could have done before she realized that she was pregnant that might have caused Alex to become afflicted with AS. She drank too many Cokes; yes, caffeine intake had to be the culprit. But the moment that the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, she had traded in her caffeine addiction for a healthy diet. Even without the doctor's admonishments, she knew that the foods eaten during pregnancy could affect the growth and development of her baby. Consequently, she made certain to consume the proper servings of protein (fish, eggs, and beans), calcium (milk and cheese), fruits and vegetables, and grains (whole grain bread and pasta). In addition, she took her prenatal vitamins religiously. Alan used to tease her about being the most "diligent" pregnant woman he had ever met. But despite her efforts, Alex still had AS. It had taken her awhile to realize that she hadn't caused that to happen to her son.  
  
Then she blamed God. She felt angry that God had selected Alex to carry the burden of AS. Sometimes at night when she felt the anger that had hibernated within her during the day struggling to be unleashed, she would pray, pray with more intensity than she had ever prayed before. She would ask God to help her understand why He had chosen Alex to shoulder this great emotional weight and to give her the strength to help her son. Alan had shut her out emotionally, too, willing to live in denial than to accept Alex's circumstances and fight for Alex's well being. Alan believed that if they didn't talk about AS that somehow it would miraculously disappear. He refused to accept the fact that his son could be less than his definition of perfection.  
  
And during these darkest hours she could almost hear Nana's voice resonating in her head imploring her to have faith, telling her to hold on because God loved her and Alex and through that love, they could survive anything. She remembered when she was a little girl and she was afraid of thunderstorms. It was Nana who had taught her how to appreciate the beauty of a thunderstorm. Nana would say that God would talk to his children on Earth through his thunderstorms. And He may seem angry because of the loud boom and violent flashes of light, but He really wasn't angry. He was reminding His children that He still loved them even if their behavior towards each other sometimes saddened Him. He spoke loudly and dressed the sky with a powerful light so His children could hear and see Him and would listen...listen with their hearts. Afterwards, after the thunderstorm ended, Nana would tell her to smell the air. And she did. To her, the air smelled so fresh and alive as if through the storm God had bathed the Earth with hope. Hope was one of His greatest blessings.  
  
She needed hope right now.  
  
"Mrs. Miller, we at Social Services aren't here to regulate morality or judge your behavior." Mrs. Peabody continued breaking the palpable silence that had engulfed the room. "If you choose to have your...your friend live here with you and your son without the benefit of marriage, it isn't Social Services place to question your decision. And as Alexander's mother, you're certainly within your rights to use reasonable discipline on him. Our concern here, however, is when such discipline crosses over the line of what is reasonable and endangers a child's welfare. Our ultimate goal is to preserve the integrity of the family unit, but that goal needs to be balanced against the standard of the best interests of the child. We don't enjoy removing a child from his natural mother's custody and placing him with strangers, but we would rather see a child in a foster home than in a coffin." Mrs. Peabody said bluntly.  
  
Candace looked deeply into Mrs. Peabody's eyes. For as much as the woman had said that she wasn't passing judgment, Candace heard judgment in Mrs. Peabody's words and in her tone. And she saw judgment in Mrs. Peabody's eyes. Candace saw an indifferent woman who embraced an indifferent system. Somewhere along the line, Candace sensed, Mrs. Peabody stopped seeing the people, but saw only her own bias. Mrs. Peabody didn't know her nor did she know Alex. What the woman knew was some lie that she had been fed by a source. And without question, Mrs. Peabody accepted the lie as truth. She may have said that she was here to make a determination as to whether or not the allegation was unfounded, but from the woman's words Candace knew that Mrs. Peabody lacked objectivity. Mrs. Peabody had already passed judgment.  
  
Candace felt defensive even though she knew that she had done nothing wrong. "I would never hurt my son nor would I allow anyone else to hurt him. I love him very much."  
  
But Mrs. Peabody wasn't listening to Candace. "The first step is admitting that you have a problem, that you need help and then taking steps to get that help. Social Services offers referrals for counseling that could help you deal with stress. And if you continue to have this man in your life and around your son, we can make referrals for him to attend anger management classes to help him deal with his aggressions without taking them out on Alexander. Consider yourself fortunate that a concerned citizen intervened at this juncture."  
  
Concerned citizen intervened at this juncture. Those words suddenly sent a chill down her spine and unclouded her vision.  
  
How could she have forgotten?  
  
There was a greater monster out there, a bestial of evil that would swallow her and Alex alive without regret and remorse.  
  
Hate.  
  
And in this case, hate had a face and a name. And hate had beautiful sapphire eyes that had been passed on to his grandson.  
  
"You think that this is over? Far from it, young lady. I will not allow my grandson to live in an environment with you and your boyfriend carrying on like this. I have a lot of clout. I'll make sure that you lose that boy."  
  
How could she have forgotten?  
  
Lyndon reeked of hate; hate was venom that flowed through Lyndon's veins and contaminated his blood. Lyndon fed on hate like a glutton and through this gluttony, Lyndon had permitted the destructive emotion to swell inside of his belly. Lyndon hated her, she could deal with that. What was harder for her to deal with was the fact that he hated his grandson. It wasn't enough for Lyndon to let the hate pepper his words and actions, calling Alex "damaged" and exiling Alex from his life. Lyndon wouldn't be satisfied until he saw Alex ripped from his mother and left with strangers. That would be Lyndon's ultimate revenge.  
  
But she would not allow Lyndon to succeed with his nefarious intentions. After overhearing her conversation with Lyndon, she knew that Alex had been desperately seeking reassurances that he was loved and that she wouldn't leave him. He would never survive among strangers, perhaps as indifferent as Mrs, Peabody, strangers might not understand Asperger's Syndrome. What if Alex experienced a meltdown while in the custody of foster parents? They could view his behavior as willful and defiant and instead of helping him, comforting him, they would punish him. There was no way that she would allow that to happen. No one was going to take her son away from her.  
  
"Mommy." The little voice whispered. Alex had suddenly entered the room, his presence adding to the undercurrent of tension from the adults. Alex's eyes, lost and bewildered, locked with Candace's eyes. And she understood.  
  
A little lost boy, lost in his emotional prison and lost in an intolerant society, dreamed of flying far away with his Mommy and his "superman" to a place where they could escape all the monsters. And at this moment, so did she.  
  
Chapter Fifty-Four  
  
Lyndon closed the manila folder, leaned back against his chair in his office, and smiled. Wealth definitely had its advantages.  
  
When he left Candace's apartment yesterday morning, he pulled out his cell phone immediately after getting into his BMW. He needed information about this young man of hers if he was going to decide the appropriate means of "handling" the situation. He dialed a number and issued his demands. It was never hard finding minions willing to do his bidding. Money had a way of inspiring quick results.  
  
In this case, he wanted Candace's apartment placed under surveillance. He wanted to know every time that man visited her and what time the guy left. In addition, he wanted the mystery man followed and a dossier prepared on him. Whoever this "Gary" was he was about to learn a lesson about playing in the big leagues.  
  
It didn't take long to get a preliminary report. Lyndon had perused through the folder with great interest. And it was very fascinating reading indeed. Gary Hobson was the man's name, former stockbroker at Strauss and Associates, recently divorced, living at the Blackstone Hotel. Lyndon surmised that Hobson must have been fired from his job and kicked out of the house by his wife when she learned of his extracurricular activities. Real loser. He had seen that type before. Lazy, worthless; a gigolo latching onto a desperate woman of means as his meal ticket, to take care of him, relying on his good looks. The report only indicated that Hobson was divorced, but offered no information about his ex-wife. Lyndon's source had promised to secure that information along with any other dirt that he could dig up on Hobson.  
  
The smile was soon replaced by a scowl. Alan certainly didn't have the sense that he was born with so now he was stuck to clean up after his son's mess. How many times had he told Alan that he needed to marry a woman from a proper family, a woman with breeding? He could understand Alan wanting to sow his wild oats with Candace. But he told Alan to use discretion so as not to embarrass the family. Alan certainly didn't have to marry her. She lacked the class to understand and to appreciate what it meant to be a part of a respected family. And how dare she think that she could pass off that boy as his grandson? He looked at Gary Hobson. The man's resemblance to that little boy was uncanny. No doubt Hobson didn't want to undertake the financial responsibility for the boy, but he was more than happy to continue carrying on with Candace. The two of them had to think that they were pretty clever concocting that scheme to pass off that boy as his grandson so that they could weasel their way into collecting that boy's inheritance. Well, he didn't become a successful business man with Fortune 500 companies by being stupid. A quick call to his lawyer and the child was disinherited.  
  
Lyndon had made another call to Social Services, the grandfather who was concerned that his grandson being physically abused. It had taken a lot of effort on his part to play the doting grandfather; he thought that he was going to choke on his words. He pleaded with Social Services to do something to protect his grandson telling Mrs. Peabody that his son had divorced the little boy's mother (skillfully implying that the divorce was because of her infidelity). Lyndon added that Alan was out of the state and was worried about his son's welfare so Alan had asked him to stop over Candace's apartment. While at the apartment, he told Mrs. Peabody that he heard a man's loud voice emanating from Alex's bedroom. The man was yelling at the boy. Loud striking noises and the child's blood curling screams followed the yelling. He rushed to the bedroom to protect his grandson, but the man stood at the bedroom door stopping him from entering. His heart sank when he heard Alex crying. He tried to push his way pass the younger man, but then the man threatened him with bodily harm. He was told to leave the apartment. His first instincts were to call the police, but he was afraid that his former daughter would also be arrested for permitting her son to be abused by her boyfriend. Despite everything she had done, he didn't want to see her go to jail. She was a weak woman who needed help. So he called Social Services instead praying that they would be able to help her and Alex. Mrs. Peabody promised that she would go to the apartment to investigate the allegation. She also assured him that it was Social Services policy that all callers reporting suspected child abuse remained anonymous. Lyndon almost wished that Mrs. Peabody had revealed to Candace that he was the one who had made the call to Social Services. He wanted her to know. But he was sure that it wouldn't take her long to figure it out.  
  
And he knew that bureaucracy well. He had on occasion waltzed to the tune of the bureaucratic machine, a slow and deliberate dance. One...two...three...four. He learned over the years that the bureaucracy was a possessive partner that refused to surrender its stronghold. The bureaucracy always wanted to lead the dance. The music never stopped. However, he was clever and had since learned how to manipulate the beat. The tunes of Rico and Antitrust violations never intimidated his stride. But Candace didn't share his talent. Whether or not she succeeded in surmounting this initial hurdle with Social Services was irrelevant. She was now a "file" owned by the government. And from now on whenever that boy skinned his knee or bruised his arm, the origins of those injuries would be questioned.  
  
Lyndon smiled again. He had Candace exactly where he wanted her. And very soon her Gary Hobson was about to learn some very painful lessons.  
  
Chapter Fifty-Five  
  
The seashell slept peacefully on the pure white beach inhaling the quiet and seemingly oblivious to the pain, frenzy, and destruction of a world outside of its consciousness. Even its welcoming champion, the sand, appeared happy. It was virgin sand with granules so clean and so untouched reminiscent of virgin snow before it becomes spoiled by uninvited footprints.  
  
That's when it happened unexpectedly. An angry wave, born from a suspicious ocean and full of pent up frustrations and hostilities, intruded upon the beach's tranquillity. The wave crashed violently against the sand and assaulted the seashell filling the shell's belly with the impurities of the water, the slugs from the ocean floor. Of course, the seashell knew about these impurities, how could it not? Yet, the seashell wanted to forget about them, at least for a little while, as it cleaved to the sand's bosom. It wanted to shut out those self-absorbed and angry noises.  
  
But the angry waves wouldn't allow the seashell to forget.  
  
Candace was like that seashell and Alex was her sand, pure with unspoiled granules of childhood innocence. Asperger's Syndrome became the angry wave crashing down violently against Alex's psyche with so many nameless emotions gnawing at the little boy for recognition. And it was so hard for Alex to grant that desired recognition, to find the words to address the myriad of emotions. Sometimes, the angriest of waves, a meltdown, crashed down on the both of them. It was then that the pure sand became colored by its own despair while the seashell was rendered exhausted in the fight. Candace was exhausted, but she would never concede that fight; she would never give up on her son. Perhaps that was why the seashell had its shell in the first place, its hard outer layer. That hard surface enabled the beautiful, natural wonderment to survive the most vigilant wave and still emerge victorious.  
  
Maybe if Asperger's Syndrome were the only wave challenging them, she and Alex would have an easier fight. But there were other angry waves out there swirling forcefully and poised to attack. A wave named hatred, in the form of Lyndon Miller, had already crashed against the sand and violated the seashell. Now another wave called intolerance, personified by Mrs. Peabody, seemed determined to wield its own brand of destruction.  
  
"You must be Alexander." Mrs. Peabody said.  
  
There was no answer as the beautiful and bewildered sapphire eyes fixed on the stranger. Instinctively, Alex rushed to his mother and buried his face against Candace's chest.  
  
"It's okay, honey." She reassured her son.  
  
Mrs. Peabody proceeded to the couch and sat down. Candace briefly hesitated before she held Alex's hand and they walked towards the couch. Candace sat down and lifted Alex onto her lap.  
  
"How old is Alexander?" Mrs. Peabody inquired.  
  
"He'll be six on October 25th." Candace confirmed. She smoothed Alex's hair then kissed him on the forehead.  
  
"Six. And he's not in school?"  
  
"I'm investigating schools for him." Candace replied simply.  
  
Mrs. Peabody glanced at her folder again. She read a few lines from the page. "Yes. I see. The child has *that* problem."  
  
The venom that punctuated Mrs. Peabody's words was unmistakable. The words came out almost like a snarl. The hideousness of the sound echoed off the walls of the room before punching Candace in the chest. Candace could feel the bile rising up in her stomach and quickly traveling through her body. Intolerance was the cousin to prejudice and both familial attributes found a home with Mrs. Peabody.  
  
Candace's first instinct was to employ her own scathing words to confront the woman's bigotry before she tossed Mrs. Peabody out of the apartment on her bureaucratic ear. But she knew that if she did that, Mrs. Peabody would have all the "evidence" to confirm her suspicions of the violent home that Alex lived in. Candace wouldn't put anything pass the woman returning with the police and taking Alex away.  
  
"Alex has Asperger's Syndrome. Not too many people take the time to learn about it so that they are informed and can offer intelligent assessments about my son. It seems that a lot of people are willing to accept anything as truth rather than really taking the time to learn the truth. And I'm looking for a school where the teachers are educated about AS so that they can help Alex not only with his subjects but also in handling AS, where they can help him learn how to communicate and to socialize with other children." Candace said.  
  
"How do you feel about going to school, Alexander?" Mrs. Peabody asked.  
  
No answer.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Mrs. Peabody paused before continuing. "Alexander, I'm here because it's my job to help little children and their mommies so that their mommies will be better able to take care of them. Does your mommy take good care of you?"  
  
Alex nodded.  
  
"How about your mommy's friend? Does he take good care of you, too?"  
  
No answer.  
  
Mrs. Peabody was clearly getting frustrated. "You don't have to be afraid anymore, Alexander. Remember I'm here because it's my job to help little children. Does your Mommy's friend hit you? It's okay, you can tell me. I promise that I will help you."  
  
"Promises are presents." Alex finally said.  
  
Mrs. Peabody flashed Alex a confused look. "Promises are presents?"  
  
Alex nodded. "Gary says promises are presents."  
  
"Gary? Is Gary your mommy's boyfriend? Does he live here with you and your mommy?"  
  
Chapter Fifty-Six  
  
Justice isn't blind. She sees through jaded eyes with bias coloring her judgments. Justice courts suspicion and cynicism and invites them into the bonds of friendship. Justice is condemning.  
  
And in this case, Justice anointed its own servant in the form of a social worker who held a family's future in the palm of her hand.  
  
Mrs. Peabody studied the little boy intently then she glanced at Candace with those jaded bureaucratic eyes of hers and hardened veneer that had come from too many years of doing an often thankless job. Watching mother and son, Mrs. Peabody heard a persistent tune echoing in her brain. It was always the same tune; only the lyrics were different, or in this case, the names of the parents and the children. Neglect, Abuse, and Denial. Neglect, Abuse, and Denial. Neglect, Abuse, and Denial. Mrs. Peabody couldn't get that tempo out of her head.  
  
The verdict was in: Guilty.  
  
Mrs. Peabody knew exactly what was happening here. She had seen it so many times before. Divorced mother, lonely and desperate for a man, takes up with some good-for-nothing loser. The guy doesn't work and probably abuses alcohol. But alcohol isn't the only thing that he abuses. The woman's child becomes the convenient scapegoat for the man's failings, the punching bag for him to let out his aggressions. Perhaps the child was making too much noise or maybe he refused to follow some edict like cleaning his room. The man would remove his belt and rain numerous hard blows all over the child's body as the child screamed out, screamed desperately for his mother to save him from the punishment. But his mother wouldn't save him. She'd willingly turn a deaf ear to the abuse. Denial became her mantra.  
  
Then the conspiracy of silence began. And that was almost as bad as the abuse. Once the child stopped crying and even as the bruises claimed his body, the man would approach the child with either a reward or a threat seeking a promise of silence. A toy or an ice cream cone. Don't tell anyone what I did. It's our little secret. You promise? The child would reluctantly nod through his tears, acquiescing to the bribery. Or, there would be no treat to inspire silence, just a threat. If you tell anyone what I did, you'll be very sorry. The promise would be obtained through the child's fear of a repeat performance of the painful abuse. It was a promise born from fear and sealed in a child's blood.  
  
And the child's mother continued to turn a deaf ear.  
  
Promises weren't presents. They were an insidious way to intimate a child into silence.  
  
Mrs. Peabody was on a fishing expedition determined to glean all the knowledge she could about this "Gary."  
  
"Gary? Is Gary your mommy's boyfriend? Does he live here with you and your mommy?" The social worker probed.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Gary is just a friend of Alex and mine. And no, he doesn't live here." Candace answered.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Mrs. Miller, I told you that it's not Social Services' place to regulate morality. If you choose to have this man live with you and your son, that's your business. Our concern here is this child's welfare. And I told you that in addition to talking to Alexander, it is Social Services' policy to check the child for bruises."  
  
However, as Mrs. Peabody reached out to touch the little boy, Alex let out a blood-curling scream.  
  
Chapter Fifty-Seven  
  
Those eyes. Those eyes scared him. The glasses didn't help; they didn't hide those eyes. A monster's eyes were always the first thing that he saw through the darkness. A monster's eyes shone like a never-ending fire continuously burning from the depths of hell.  
  
Then he'd hear their voices. He wasn't sure if the sound was snarling or some other hideous noise to inspire paralyzing fear.  
  
Then the monster would extend one of its appendages, so strong that it would strangle him. He'd cry. He'd always cry. And he was always alone.  
  
Mommy?! Mommy, where are you?! Help me!"  
  
His cries were so desperate.  
  
Then those long fingers reached for him like tentacles of evil.  
  
Just as Mrs. Peabody reached out to touch the little boy, Alex let out a blood-curling scream. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Mommy! Help me, Mommy!" Alex repeated over and over. He buried his face deeply within his mother's chest far away from Mrs. Peabody. He needed to hide. His mother's arms were the only sanctuary he had ever known.  
  
Emotionally, Asperger's Syndrome made him akin to that boy in the plastic bubble. The boy in the plastic bubble had a genetic makeup that made it impossible for him survive in a germ filled society. Alex lived in an emotional plastic bubble where he had shut himself from strangers. He had welcomed only his mother into his emotional bubble. And he had welcomed Gary. Gary had been the only stranger that he had embraced into his world.  
  
Candace wrapped Alex in her cocoon of love as she cradled him in her arms. Yet, his screams and tormented pleas for help continued.  
  
"Leave me alone! Mommy! Help me!"  
  
"It's okay, honey. Mommy's here. Mommy's here." She said softly as she gently rocked him back and forth. Looking at Mrs. Peabody, Candace said forcefully, "I want you to leave now! No one will upset my child!"  
  
Mrs. Peabody hesitated momentarily before rising from the couch. "This isn't over, Mrs. Miller. It is my preliminary evaluation, based on the conduct that I witnessed, that your son exhibits all the classic signs of abuse. You are now formally under investigation and I will be talking to your neighbors and other possible witnesses that may be able to shed light on this situation. And I will be returning here later today with a court order compelling you to have this child examined by medical authorities. I also expect this man of yours, this Gary, to be present as well so that I can talk to him. If I determine that there has been abuse, I will recommend that this child is immediately removed from your custody and that the district attorney pursue criminal charges against you and Gary."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"And while you're talking to your 'possible witnesses', you can tell my father-in-law that I know that he's behind all of this, that he's the anonymous source that you won't name, but his plan is not going to work. You want to talk about abuse and filing charges then you should be looking at that pathetic excuse for a human being who uses his money and so-called connections to manipulate the system. Now get out of here!"  
  
Mrs. Peabody proceeded to the door and opened it. The door violently slammed behind her as she left the apartment.  
  
Candace didn't move from her position on the couch. She continued holding and rocking Alex. The little boy's screams had turned into pitiful sobs.  
  
She knew that there was a phone call that she needed to make, but it would have to wait. She wouldn't let go of her son. Now she needed to hold Alex. They needed to hold each other.  
  
And at this moment, Alex wasn't the only one who needed to be in that plastic bubble  
  
Chapter Fifty-Eight  
  
The first step is always the hardest. It's supposed to be. That's why it's called the first step. It's a time to surrender inhibition and fear and to embrace hope and gut instinct. The baby bird tossed haphazardly from the nest by his mother and expected to fly has no time to ponder fear as he perhaps feels a sonic boom against his little feathers caused by the union of air and sound. His mother, his safety net, will most likely catch him rather than see him plunge to his death. But she won't tell him that. Instead, she expects him to fly, to show her that he can do it. More importantly, he expects to fly for himself. He's scared; of course, he's scared, but that bird just needs to admit to himself that he can do it. The self-fulfilling prophecy.  
  
The first step for the alcoholic in recovery is the hardest, too. Both his mind and body craves the sojourn that he finds in the bottle, the journey towards escape. Liquor becomes the religion that he has invested his entire being in tireless worship. Liquor represents his "lost weekend" and every day in between. Then one day his dormant conscience starts aggressively imploring him to surrender the liquor that has become his crutch. But before he can stand up on wobbly legs in an AA meeting and confess that "I'm an alcoholic" in front of a room of his similarly afflicted brethren, he has to stand in front of a mirror and admit it to himself.  
  
And the battle-scarred hero nursing the wounds of an unexpected and painful divorce also has to take the first step in surrendering the blame for his ill-fated marriage. He has to take the first step in admitting that he has developed feelings for another woman so soon after his divorce. But he questions these feelings. Maybe what he is feeling isn't love. Yet, he feels something strong and powerful for her, something that he can't deny. He feels it just being around her. He feels it whenever he looks into her eyes or touches her. And he felt it when he kissed her.  
  
And as strange as it sounded and as guarded as he usually was in revealing his emotions, he needed to talk to someone about what he was feeling.  
  
Gary took a deep breath before speaking. He gazed at Marissa. He was a bit hesitant at first exposing his raw emotions to his friend, but finally he said, "you're right. I do have strong feelings for Candace and I don't know why. It's too soon." He paused briefly before continuing. "And I'm scared."  
  
The silence was deafening as he stared at his wedding ring. He twisted the gold band around his finger as if he were expecting the ring to provide answers. Only it didn't. Instead, the symbol of matrimonial bliss offered more questions. Gary found himself feeling guilty about his emotions, as if he were "cheating" on his wife. Ex-wife, his inner voice reminded. Marcia is your ex-wife. You owe her nothing. That's right, it was Marcia's decision to end their marriage. When he said his wedding vows, he had intended to be married until death do them part. Then how could he be feeling what he was feeling for Candace so soon after his divorce? Did his marriage mean so little to him that he could open up his heart this quickly to another woman? Or, maybe he was just transferring hie feelings to Candace, a man on the rebound trying to heal his shattered heart. If that were the case then he was being unfair to Candace. Candace was too special to play second fiddle to the ghost of romantic desires. She had enough to handle without him insinuating his emotions upon her.  
  
He glanced at Marissa. He could tell that she was waiting for him to continue unburdening himself, but that she was not going to pressure him. Her eyes were soft and encouraging. He could do this.  
  
Gary took a deep breath. "When I met Candace," he began slowly, "I never expected that she and Alex would become such an important part of my life. I was only supposed to save Alex from injury in that supermarket and then disappear. Go on to my next saves. But when I pulled him out of danger and he started crying and calling me a bad man, I figured that I was in big trouble. Everybody in that store was looking at me like I was a child molester. I knew that I was going to be arrested. The Paper...it....it doesn't come with instructions and I never got any training on how to be a hero. Most of the time, I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Just like with Frank. Sitting on that rooftop with Frank, hearing him talk about his wife and kids, I knew that he didn't want to throw his life away but I also knew that he felt lost and desperate. When I convinced him to put that gun down and we left that bank, I figured that everything was going to be okay. Except that I was the one who ended up handcuffed, placed in the back of a squad car, and grilled by Tagliotti.  
  
With Alex, I didn't even know what I was going to say about why he had become so hysterical. But Candace believed me, that I never meant Alex any harm. She trusted me, a stranger, enough to tell me about her life and about Alex having Asperger's Syndrome. I sat in that diner and listened to her life story and while I listened, I watched Alex. I watched this beautiful, special little boy who had been deserted by his father. And I guess, I don't know, I guess that I felt something, a connection right away with both her and Alex. Maybe Chuck was right; Candace was everything that I wanted Marcia to be. I admired and respected her for her love and devotion to her son. I kept telling myself that was all I felt about her, admiration and respect. It's hard enough raising a kid when there's two parents, but Candace...she's all alone. I'm not even sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I found myself thinking about her, not just as this strong and resourceful single mother. I found myself feeling...." Gary stopped himself mid-sentence and abruptly jumped up from the couch. "This is stupid. I'm acting like an adolescent with a crush. I don't want to cause her anymore trouble. I'm going to stop this and I'm going to stop this now."  
  
Marissa arose from the couch. Following the sound of his voice, she proceeded to where he was standing. She gently touched his arm. "Gary, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?"  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm listening."  
  
"Because what I'm about to say is something that you need to hear."  
  
Chapter Fifty-Nine  
  
A true blue blood makes no apologies for an affluent lifestyle and attitudes  
  
that are above the appreciation of the common man. Wealth isn't an  
  
embarrassment. It is both a privilege and a responsibility. "Old" money  
  
sometimes snobs "new" money for its failure to understand and appreciate  
  
this tenet.  
  
Penelope Colby possessed the pedigree of old money. Her lineage was a  
  
straight line connecting her to several fine families whose names were  
  
stitched into America's historical fabric. Names like Biddle and Mellon.  
  
She hailed from New York. Over thirty years ago, she was a wide-eyed,  
  
raven-hair debutante. A demure young lady descending a white marble  
  
staircase. A graceful swan facing an audience of self-assured ganders. As  
  
she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes feasted on the man with the  
  
most beautiful eyes that she had ever seen. His dark hair was as rich as  
  
anthracite coal. His smile was as bright as a pearl liberated from a  
  
stubborn oyster. When he gently took her hand, she instantly felt an  
  
electric current running through her body. He asked her name and then he  
  
told her his name- Lyndon Miller. She accepted his invitation to dance. The  
  
chandelier bathed the room in a brilliant light while stirring music poured  
  
from the orchestra. A sea of white gowns and black tuxedoes mingled on the  
  
floor. Children of privilege forging their futures during a delicate waltz.  
  
Her feet glided effortlessly across the floor as she rested her head on  
  
his shoulder. He whispered promises into her ear. And she believed him.  
  
She fell in love with him that night.  
  
They spent a glorious summer talking, laughing, and making plans. In the  
  
fall, she went to Vassar. He attended Yale. She majored in liberal arts.  
  
He majored in corporate mergers. The following summer, they became engaged.  
  
They were married a year after their college graduation. Two years after  
  
that, the Millers welcomed a son, Alan.  
  
Alan Miller was reared by a string of nannies as his mother focused on her  
  
duties as a society matron. Even after Alan grew up and the Millers moved  
  
to Chicago, Penelope's afternoons were spent in committee meetings for  
  
numerous charities in which she actively participated or chaired. The  
  
preservation of historic landmarks, the campaign for literacy, and a plea  
  
for funding for a new pediatric wing at Columbia General Hospital were some  
  
of the causes that Penelope aggressively championed.  
  
Penelope had expected that Alan would marry a former debutante with  
  
breeding, a young woman who knew the place that she was expected to assume  
  
on the social landscape. When Penelope met Candace, she was instantly  
  
disappointed by her son's choice. Penelope had prayed that Alan would come  
  
to his senses and begin dating a more suitable girl. Then Alan informed her  
  
that he planned to marry this girl. Penelope's heart sank, but still she  
  
tried to accept the girl into the family. She even included Candace on one  
  
of her crucial committees: Establishing a wild life preservation for  
  
endangered species. But Candace acted like she was bored and disinterested  
  
during the meetings. Penelope told Candace about the inappropriateness of  
  
her behavior because it was a poor reflection on the family. But the girl  
  
just couldn't take constructive criticism. Penelope remembered Candace  
  
storming out of the house but not before quoting Eleanor Roosevelt saying  
  
something about "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  
  
The nerve of that girl! She just didn't know her place.  
  
Relations with her daughter-in-law remained strained after that incident.  
  
Still, Penelope was excited by the birth of her grandson. The first time  
  
she saw Alexander, Penelope marveled over how much he resembled Alan as a  
  
baby. And Alexander definitely inherited Lyndon's eyes.  
  
Penelope sighed forlornly. She missed her grandson. She longed to see him  
  
again. But maybe Lyndon was right, maybe it was for the best if they weren't  
  
a part of this boy's life.  
  
Then again, maybe...  
  
Chapter Sixty  
  
"Why are you punishing yourself over this?" Marissa asked softly.  
  
For a moment, looking into her eyes, Gary would have suspected that she could see him, that she had been touched by God's hand and that her sight had been restored. A miracle. Like something in the Bible. Except he wasn't too big on miracles right now.  
  
The intensity of her sightless gaze unclothed him, left him naked with vulnerability. Her gaze found a willing partner in her soothing yet honest tone. It was a paradox, in a way. Her tone was soft and unassuming in its delivery, but that was also a testament to its strength. Sometimes a lark's voice resonates more forcefully than a lion's roar. The former is confident in its own sound. The latter is like a boisterous bully who finds a perverse pleasure tormenting whenever there's an audience of his simpleton minions goading him on and feeding into his delusion of grandeur. But when the self-appointed bully is alone with his victim, he shrinks back. True cowardice has been exposed.  
  
Gary was no stranger to the power of a lark's voice. He was raised on it. Whenever Mom used that tone of voice, he knew that he was in big trouble. He'd face Dad's wrath over Mom's any day. Gary remembered that whenever he was caught doing something that he shouldn't have done, all Mom had to do was to give him a look and couple it with a "I'm very disappointed in you." And she'd say it softly, too. However, the effect of her words was as biting as the proverbial chalk running rampant across a blackboard. Or scratching against his insides. Very painful. Most times, those words were far worse than any punishment that she could dish out.  
  
God, right now he felt just like a kid right now. Only the woman in front of him wasn't his mother.  
  
He let the silence blossom between them, mortgaged to his uncertainty as he contemplated his response to her question. "I'm not." He finally murmured unconvincingly.  
  
She paused briefly to consider her words. "You've had a lot of changes happen in your life in a short period of time. Your divorce. You quit your job. The Paper. But maybe there's a reason why all that had to happen. Maybe there's a reason why The Paper brought Candace and Alex into your life."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I needed to be in that supermarket to prevent Alex from injury."  
  
"Maybe it was more than that, Gary. Maybe it was because you and Candace needed to meet each other. You told me how easily Candace opened up to you. She must have felt a connection with you, too. It can't be easy for her either with handling her divorce and raising her son alone. She probably needs a friend."  
  
"A friend, sure. But not a romantic involvement. Neither one of us is ready for that."  
  
"You're probably right. You're both healing. But that doesn't mean that what you feel for her is wrong or that it couldn't grow into something special over time. Right now, why can't you just enjoy spending time with a little boy and woman you care about? I hear the happiness in your voice whenever you talk about them. Why deprive yourself of that just because you think that your feelings are wrong?"  
  
"You don't understand, Marissa. My being in Candace's life is trouble for her."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why? Why. I'll tell you why. It's because...because...it just is." "Well, that clears things up." Marissa quipped.  
  
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Okay, I'll tell you why. Her father-in-law."  
  
"Her father-in-law?"  
  
"Ex father-in-law. Lyndon Miller. That guy is a first class, pompous jerk. He raised a son who walked out on his responsibilities and now Miller is determined to make Candace's life a living hell. It wasn't enough for the guy to treat his own grandson like he was unworthy, call him damaged, but when he saw me in Candace's apartment, he made all sorts of accusations. I haven't thought about it, but everyone who has seen me with Alex has remarked on our resemblance. Marcia hurled accusations. And Chuck...Chuck insisted that Alex could easily be my son. Now Miller believes that I'm Alex's father, but that Candace and I cooked up some scheme to fleece him out of the family fortune. When he left, he threatened her, said that he had power and connections, and that he was going to make sure that she'd lose Alex. None of that would have happened if I hadn't been there. If I wasn't a part of Candace's life."  
  
Before Marissa had a chance to respond, the phone rang. "Excuse me." Gary said as he proceeded to the phone and answered it. "Hello? Candace? Candace, what's wrong?"  
  
Chapter Sixty-One  
  
She didn't say much over the phone. She didn't have to because the few words that she had said were enough: "I need you."  
  
She needed him.  
  
Maybe The Paper had been in on her secret turmoil and had winked with glee at possessing information that it was hoarding from him. The hint of this conspiracy seemed to be that there were no stories in his early edition requiring a hero's attention today.  
  
Gary walked the path towards Candace's apartment. His heart and mind felt heavy, a glutton's meal of tremendous foreboding swelling his belly. As he walked, his preoccupation made him oblivious to the car parked conspicuously across the street with its zoom lens purposely trained on Candace's apartment. An artificial voyeur. An instrument of malice.  
  
He rang the doorbell. Then he heard the familiar voice. She sounded so tired. Why? What had happened since last he saw her to have stolen her strength? When she opened the door, he was briefly taken aback by the exhaustion portrayed on her face. She invited him into the apartment. As he entered the living room, he saw Alex sitting on the couch holding Mr. Bear. It seemed as if Mr. Bear had been given the license to Alex's emotions. What secrets were concealed by the teddy bear with the big brown eyes? Mr. Bear wasn't talking.  
  
Gary proceeded to the couch. "Hey buddy...ah...Alex."  
  
No answer.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
There was still no answer from the little boy with the beautiful sapphire eyes. Instead, Alex stared intently at Gary, their eyes locking despite the eerie silence that had engulfed the room like noxious gas.  
  
Something was terribly wrong. He had been able to penetrate Alex's silent world and had been rewarded with hugs, kisses, smiles, and laughter. He had to listen very carefully, but he had heard the faint whisperings from Alex's heart as the child invited him into a special world. Alex had trusted him. The only other time that Alex had punished him with silence was when he had failed to keep his promise about taking Alex and Candace to Navy Pier.  
  
The stare was hauntingly sterile, empty, devoid of emotion. Alex's gaze was like a Styrofoam cup with beehive sized holes where the little boy's emotions had seeped through and spilled out undetected.  
  
And now Alex wasn't talking to him. Fear tiptoed down his spine and then settled in his stomach like lead. A realization hit him.  
  
"Alex, are you mad at me?" Gary asked concerned.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Alex?" His voice was pleading this time. Still, Alex was unresponsive.  
  
Candace had witnessed the interaction between Gary and Alex from across the room. She took Gary's last question as her cue to join them on the couch. His mother's presence broke Alex's stare. Instinctively, the child crawled into his mother's lap and buried his face against her chest.  
  
Candace caught the hurt expression emanating from Gary's face. "It's not you." She said to Gary softly, reassuringly. She gently stroked her son's hair.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"I'm sleepy, Mommy." The little voice finally whispered.  
  
"How about you take a nap, okay?"  
  
Alex nodded in response. Gary watched as Candace carried Alex into the bedroom. She left the door to his bedroom slightly ajar before returning to the living room.  
  
"What's wrong? What happened?" Gary asked, his voice laced with alarm.  
  
The words wouldn't come. Only her tears that she had desperately tried suppressing. Gary rushed towards her and hugged her tightly.  
  
Outside a camera clicked joyously as it captured the tender moment between Gary and Candace on film.  
  
Chapter Sixty-Two  
  
His hug was a transfusion of hope channeled into a weary spirit. She had  
  
been so strong bravely fighting the phantoms of guilt, regret, and  
  
self-doubt. Her love for her son had always been the most powerful armor in  
  
her battles. Yet, now that resilient armor had been confronted with a  
  
formidable adversary. An unconscionable foe.  
  
Hate.  
  
And sadly, hate never became weary. Hate offered neither rationale nor  
  
apology as it selected a disciple to do its bidding. In this case, the  
  
disciple of hate, Lyndon Miller, was nourished by the insidious emotion.  
  
Lyndon had challenged Candace into battle. His goal was a simple one: To  
  
destroy her.  
  
Gary knew that she needed to be held. He wanted to convey to her the warmth  
  
and sincerity of his touch, that she wasn't alone, and that she didn't have  
  
to be strong all the time. It was okay to cry, to allow her tears to  
  
cleanse her body of its torment. He would help her, remove her burden from  
  
her shoulders and carry it for her. And for Alex.  
  
He felt her moving slightly against his chest. He gently released his hold  
  
on her allowing her to be the architect of the next reaction. With tears  
  
glazed in her eyes, she looked at him. Their eyes locked. Their eyes were  
  
such reservoirs of intense emotion; the windows of the soul, sure. But also  
  
opened doors to both of their hearts. They were both listening, listening  
  
with their hearts. Yet, they were two people who had willed their hearts to  
  
others once before and had those hearts shattered. It was a lingering pain.  
  
Throbbing. Unforgettable. The pain was like a blazing scarlet letter "F"  
  
for failure searing through their clothes and burning a whole directly  
  
through to their souls. However, a pact of trust had been silently cemented  
  
between Gary and Candace. They shared something, something special. And it  
  
was more then being walking wounded, betrayed by the people that they had  
  
loved. Yes, they had opened the doors to their hearts. She had walked  
  
through his door and he had walked through hers.  
  
"Would you like to sit down?" Gary asked tentatively.  
  
She nodded. They proceeded towards the couch and sat down. He wouldn't  
  
rush her. She would talk to him whenever she was ready.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
Candace took a deep breath. "Alex has had such a difficult day. He really  
  
needed that nap. I just pray that he'll be able to sleep peacefully." She  
  
began.  
  
"Me too." Gary paused briefly before continuing. "Candace, what happened?"  
  
She swallowed hard. "Remember when you came into Alex's room and he kept  
  
insisting that he was bad and that no one loved him?"  
  
"Yes. But we talked to him. We reassured him." Gary replied innocently.  
  
"We reassured him for a moment, but it's always there, Gary, the anxiety.  
  
That's a part of Asperger's Syndrome. For AS children it's a constant  
  
struggle dealing with the anxiety. You'd think that you have solved the  
  
problem, reassured them of your love, made them feel happy and secure. But  
  
their anxiety is always there and can be triggered without warning. Alex is  
  
convinced that he is a bad boy and that's why his daddy left him. And it's  
  
all my fault. He must have overheard my conversation with Lyndon. If I  
  
hadn't let that man get under my skin like he did, maybe Alex wouldn't  
  
have..."  
  
"Now wait a second. That wasn't your fault. The jerk deserved all that you  
  
gave him. No, he deserved more. Maybe I could...ah...you  
  
could...we...maybe if we spend more time with Alex, he'll know how much we  
  
love him and he won't feel so anxious."  
  
She smiled at him. "Thank you. Thank you for caring. For loving Alex so  
  
much." Candace let out a wry laugh "It's so ironic."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"That Alex and I haven't known you for very long, but how much you care  
  
about us. You care more about Alex than his own father and grandfather.  
  
Alan left Alex. And Lyndon is so sick that he's concocted those lies and  
  
sent that woman to take my son away from me." Candace remarked. She fought  
  
back her tears.  
  
"What? What are you talking about? What woman?"  
  
"Mrs. Peabody. She's from Social Services. She came here this morning  
  
saying that she received a call alleging that Alex was being abused. She  
  
wouldn't name the source of the complaint, but I know that this is all  
  
Lyndon's doing. And this woman...this woman is one of the most  
  
narrow-minded, judgmental people that I have ever met. She doesn't know the  
  
facts, but she's convinced that you're my boyfriend, that you live here with  
  
Alex and me, and that you beat Alex while I just stand around and watch.  
  
She asked Alex questions. He didn't answer most of them. And when she  
  
reached out to examine him for bruises, he began screaming. She doesn't  
  
understand, she didn't want to understand, that Alex's reaction is because  
  
of his AS not because he's an abused child. She said that it was her  
  
preliminary evaluation that he exhibited all the signs of abuse. She added  
  
that she was going to get a court order to force me to submit Alex to a  
  
medical examination and that if she determined that there was abuse, she was  
  
going to take my son away from me and recommend that the district attorney  
  
file charges against you and me."  
  
Gary stared at her, wide-eyed with shock. However, before he had a chance  
  
to respond, there was a loud knock at the front door.  
  
Chapter Sixty-Three  
  
So cold. Tired. Hungry. Why was he hungry? His little belly couldn't  
  
stop growling like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum for parental  
  
attention. He had eaten; he remembered that. Then why was his stomach  
  
registering protest? Quiet. Please be quiet, he pleaded with his errant  
  
tummy. She'll hear me. She'll find me. Monsters could always hear things  
  
from very far away. And she was a very mean monster.  
  
He wasn't sure where he was, but it was a very dark place. And he was so  
  
cold. And scared. But he couldn't cry. The monster would hear him if he  
  
cried. Alex clung to Mr. Bear. Mr. Bear was crying. Mr. Bear was scared,  
  
too. Don't cry, Mr. Bear. Don't cry. The little boy soothed.  
  
Alex's heart was pounding. His heart appeared to be waging a competition  
  
with his roaring belly. Be quiet. He kept running. His little legs  
  
propelled him forward. Why couldn't he fly anymore? If he could fly, he  
  
would be able to hide from the monster. Mommy? Mommy, where are you?  
  
And where was Peter, Wendy, and the others? Why had they left him? They  
  
were his friends, but they left him. They left him alone to face the  
  
monsters. They left him because he was bad. They left him because he was  
  
bad and they didn't love him anymore.  
  
She was the queen of all the monsters. She was really scary. Her eyes.  
  
The glasses didn't help. The glasses didn't hide those eyes. A monster's  
  
eyes were always the first thing that he saw through the darkness. A  
  
monster's eyes shone like a never-ending fire continuously burning from the  
  
depths of hell.  
  
Then he'd hear the voice. Snarling. Hissing.  
  
He shook with fear. He could hear that hissing sound coming closer. It was  
  
getting closer. He looked around. Suddenly, he could see a light coming  
  
from above. He was barefoot. His toes were swimming in dirt. A sharp rock  
  
bit into his small toe gleefully tasting the young flesh. The rock seemed  
  
pleased by its meal. It hurt but he couldn't cry. She'd hear him if he  
  
cried. He tried to climb up on something to reach the light. He would be  
  
safe if he could just reach the light.  
  
But it was too late. The hissing was very close. And he could see her  
  
eyes, a monster's eyes, radiating the darkness as he sunk deeper into his  
  
abyss of fear. She was here. The monster extended one of her appendages.  
  
Her long fingers, claw-like, reached for him. Her fingers were tentacles of  
  
evil. She opened her mouth and he saw that her sharp fangs were ready to  
  
tear into his sweet and innocent flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, but  
  
no sound would come. His body shook forcefully as those sharp fangs  
  
prepared to assault his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut. And then....  
  
No pain.  
  
He felt strong, yet gentle arms lifting him. They were flying. He opened  
  
his eyes and smiled. It was Gary. Gary held him as they flew towards the  
  
light.  
  
"You're safe now, Alex. I've got you. I've got you." Gary reassured him.  
  
"Where's Mommy?" The little voice whispered.  
  
"Your mommy is safe."  
  
Gary told him that Mommy was in this wonderful place far from all the  
  
monsters. He, Mommy, Gary, and Mr. Bear were going to live in this special  
  
place. Not only were there no monsters in this place, but there was also no  
  
"bad" food like lima beans. This place had donuts, candy, trains, remote  
  
control trucks, and anything else that Alex wanted. This place was about  
  
love, light, laughter, and smiles.  
  
"You promise?" Alex said.  
  
Gary smiled. "I promise. I love you, Alex."  
  
Alex slowly opened his eyes. He discovered that he was in his room. His  
  
bedcovers were completely off the bed no doubt surrendering to the fierce  
  
beating, the thrashing about that Alex had done while the little boy was  
  
captured in his nightmare. However, Mr. Bear was still snuggled happily  
  
against Alex's chest. Was Mr. Bear scared? Alex couldn't tell. Alex  
  
hesitated briefly before he crawled out of bed. The patter of little feet  
  
squeaked against the docile floor as Alex left his bedroom and proceeded to  
  
the living room.  
  
Before Gary had a chance to respond to Candace's revelation, there was a  
  
knock on the door. Candace gazed at him. She seemed afraid to answer the  
  
door. Nonetheless, she arose from the couch, her shoulders squared with  
  
determination, proud and courageous, and approached the front door.  
  
Alex had entered the living room and walked directly to Gary. Gary studied  
  
the little boy hoping that Alex would offer him a cue as to what he wanted.  
  
He did. Alex motioned for Gary to pick him up. Gary gently and lovingly  
  
obliged lifting Alex into his arms. The little boy buried his face against  
  
the hero's chest. Cradling Alex in his arms, Gary arose from the couch, his  
  
eyes trained on the front door.  
  
Candace opened the door. Her heart began pounding rapidly as her eyes met  
  
the two unwelcome visitors. The stench of bias permeated the air and  
  
stealthily insinuated itself into a loving home. For there at the front  
  
door stood Mrs. Peabody and a very beefy, very unpleasant looking Chicago  
  
police officer.  
  
Chapter Sixty-Four  
  
She had told herself that there was no time to be afraid even as her pounding heart debated the question of bravery. She had done nothing wrong. She was a good mother. She loved her son. The truth, perhaps was meekly hiding from the frenzy, but it would be revealed. It had to be. No one was going to take Alex away from her.  
  
Mrs. Peabody studied Candace only briefly before strutting into the apartment uninvited. The police officer remained silent before following the social worker's lead and entering the home. The constitutional right to privacy had fallen victim to the bureaucratic mindset of dominance.  
  
The wheels of the bureaucracy customarily turned at a snail's pace, but in this instance, they seemed to be perfectly polished, shiny, fast and determined, like a prized car competing in a racing Grand Prix already tasting victory.  
  
After Mrs. Peabody left Candace's apartment earlier, she had called Lyndon. If there were some established precept of confidentiality when investigating these matters, an ingrained ethical standard, the woman had clearly breached it as she confided in her "source". Mrs. Peabody told Lyndon about Alex's response to her questions and the little boy's reaction when she attempted to examine him for bruises. She revealed that she had been ejected from the apartment by the child's mother but not before telling Candace of her preliminary finding of child abuse and her intention to further investigate the matter. Mrs. Peabody assured the concerned grandfather that she planned to zealously advocate for the best interests of Alex.  
  
There was a deafening silence on the line as Lyndon seemed to soak in the conversation. Finally, he thanked Mrs. Peabody for her efforts in protecting his grandson. He conveniently let it slip that Candace's violent boyfriend's name was Gary Hobson and that he was terrified that the beating that he witnessed the young man giving Alex was not the first. How could anyone want to harm a child? Lyndon asked innocently. Mrs. Peabody didn't give him the frightening statistics of child abuse, but she reiterated that his intervention had most likely saved his grandson's life. However, Mrs. Peabody was puzzled when Lyndon insisted that Candace not be arrested despite her duplicity in allowing Alex to be abused. Lyndon argued that Candace was as much a victim as Alex and what she really needed was counseling not imprisonment. It was that young man who was the menace. Lyndon further added that if the results of the investigation warranted it and as painful as it would be for him to see Alex in foster care, he would rather see his grandson in the custody of strangers than with a mother who was ill- equipped to take care of him. Regardless of how things had turned out between his son and Candace, Lyndon remarked that he wished that Candace would have turned to him for help. She may no longer be his daughter-in-law, but she was the mother of his grandson. He would have done anything to help her and Alex.  
  
His words continued haunting Mrs. Peabody even after she hung up the phone. She had seen so many cases like this one that the unpleasantness had been branded into her psyche. But Candace Miller was an anomaly of sorts. Here was a divorced mother who had a support system. Mrs. Peabody suspected that Candace had shunned the emotional and financial assistance that her ex- father-in-law probably offered just so she could continue carrying on with her loser boyfriend. Judgment crept into Mrs. Peabody's subconscious. A woman like that didn't deserve to have that child.  
  
The social worker's initial assessment included checking computer databases for information about Candace. Mrs. Peabody noted that Candace didn't have a prior criminal record nor had she been included on the welfare rolls. Next, Mrs. Peabody began interviewing Candace's neighbors. Most of them deduced that a social services worker asking questions about Candace meant that the young mother was in some kind of trouble and they didn't want to be involved. A few people stated that from what they could see, Candace was a very pleasant woman who was devoted to her son. They never saw the boy's father, but Alex looked neat and clean and Candace appeared to spend time with him. One man remarked that Candace was a nice woman, but that little boy of hers was strange. When Mrs. Peabody asked the man to elaborate, the man said that the kid never talked to him but would just stare at him. "I figured that the kid was just dumb or something. I mean, the way he stares, that ain't normal." The man commented, his ignorance and prejudice coloring his words and tone. Mrs. Peabody had talked to several people before finally meeting and talking with a neighbor who provided her with the concrete information to validate her suspicions of abuse.  
  
Mrs. Peabody handed Candace an ominous looking piece of paper with a distinctive seal embossed on the document. "Mrs. Miller, this is a court order requiring you to bring the minor child Alexander to Columbia General Hospital to be examined by Dr. John Maranucci. Dr. Maranucci has been used by social services on previous cases of suspected child abuse. Failure to comply with this order will result in you being charged with obstruction of justice in a possible criminal investigation and subject you to arrest." Mrs. Peabody explained in a tone devoid of any emotion.  
  
Candace stood there, numb, as she read the document. "This is absurd. I don't abuse my son and I never allowed anyone else to abuse him." Candace said adamantly.  
  
Mrs. Peabody saw the young man with dark hair holding Alex. From the description she had received, the woman knew exactly who the stranger was. She looked at Gary as if he were the scum of the Earth.  
  
Unfortunately, the drama unfolding affected Alex. Alex looked up from his position in Gary's arms. Sapphire eyes registered sheer panic when he saw that the "monster" had returned. The little boy began screaming uncontrollably. Gary tried comforting Alex, but his efforts proved futile. Candace rushed over to her son. Alex's screams continued even as he left Gary's arms for his mother's.  
  
"What kind of woman are you, upsetting a child?!" Candace accused. She gently massaged Alex's back. Soon, his screams turned into anguished sobs.  
  
"It is not me upsetting him. My investigation has gleaned knowledge of prior abuse of this child by this man." Mrs. Peabody charged pointing at Gary. "The prior incident of abuse occurred recently in a supermarket."  
  
Chapter Sixty-Five  
  
Lady Justice had defiantly removed her blind-fold and although she felt submerged in the deep pool of light emanating from those beautifully bewitching and expressive mud green eyes, she pronounced her sentence quickly and severely.  
  
Guilty.  
  
There had been no formal charges filed; no opportunity to be heard nor to present a defense. The court of public opinion, whetted by its own bias, had relied on circumstantial evidence in rendering judgment. And a past event stealthily crept into a present nightmare becoming the star witness for the "prosecution".  
  
Gary glanced at Candace and their eyes locked in mutual apprehension. The supermarket incident was a ghost to them, remembered only as the catalyst that ignited a special friendship and bond. Candace had never viewed Gary as a menace to Alex's welfare even when she wasn't privy to his character as a kind and caring man. She saw Gary as the person who had saved her son. She knew that Alex's hysteria at the time was a byproduct of Asperger's Syndrome and her son's reaction was to the intense stimuli of the situation. The avalanche of fallen cans from the shelf and the sudden touch of a stranger had opened the floodgates and released the little boy's emotional demons. Salty tears had washed his soul and the tall, dark, and handsome rescuer had been cast as the "bad man" in his emotional drama. But then a funny thing happened. A special relationship, a bond had risen from the ashes of initial turmoil and mistrust. And a little boy who had seen a "bad man", and who had shut himself from strangers, had discovered love and found a kindred spirit in a good-hearted hero.  
  
"I have spoken to a person who witnessed this man harming this child in the supermarket. The child began screaming and crying from such abuse." Mrs. Peabody charged.  
  
"I don't know who you talked to, but Gary didn't abuse Alex in the supermarket or at any other time. The incident in the supermarket was just a misunderstanding. That was the first time Alex and I had met Gary. Some cans fell off a shelf. Gary rushed in and saved Alex from injury. Alex's reaction was because of Asperger's. My son becomes overwhelmed in the face of intense stimuli. Gary never harmed Alex." Candace explained. She held Alex tightly and stroked his hair. Alex was still sobbing against her chest.  
  
"Well, you may believe that story and in my professional experience, there have been parents who find any justification for abusive behavior. My concern here is what is in the best interests of Alexander. The laws of the state of Illinois and my position with the Department of Social Services requires me to take all allegations seriously and to make recommendations accordingly. I have been empowered to protect this child and I fully intend to do that." Mrs. Peabody reasoned. She walked towards Candace.  
  
Alex had briefly looked up from his position in his mother's arms. Seeing Mrs. Peabody approaching, he once again began screaming.  
  
"Mommy! Help me, Mommy! Help me!"  
  
Gary moved in front of Candace impeding Mrs. Peabody's physical contact with Alex. "Don't you see that you're upsetting him? What's the matter with ya?!"  
  
Like an actor waiting for a cue and determined to hit his "mark", the police officer moved towards Gary. The cop reached for his handcuffs.  
  
"Mr. Hobson, Officer Mallory will arrest you if you interfere with this court order. And let me caution you that your conduct will go into my report." Mrs. Peabody warned.  
  
Gary's features contorted in anger, but he felt a light tap against his arm from Candace. He glanced at her and she shook her head, which he interpreted to mean that she wanted him to back down.  
  
Turning to Candace, Mrs. Peabody said, "Officer Mallory's squad car is outside to escort you to Columbia General."  
  
"My son and I will not ride in a squad car. I will obey your court order, but we will arrive at Columbia General in a cab. Now, do you plan to arrest me for that?" Candace asked.  
  
Mrs. Peabody studied Candace briefly. The social worker didn't seem happy that she couldn't intimidate Candace, but she answered the young mother question with a "no."  
  
Little did Candace and Gary realize but there would be a few surprises awaiting them at the hospital.  
  
Chapter Sixty-Six  
  
The piercing and unexpected wail of the phone cut through the palpable silence in the room with all of the force of a knife slicing through the tough flesh of stubborn T-bone. For a moment the sound unnerved her, left her paralyzed. Her brain seemed uncertain how to communicate the appropriate response to the rest of her body. Fortunately, her brain quickly rebounded to the continued stimuli of the phone's determined cry and her body was pressed into action. Still cradling Alex lovingly in her arms like the valued treasure that he was, Candace proceeded to the phone.  
  
"Hello?" She said.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone there?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
Someone was there; she could hear the breathing on the other end of the line. It wasn't heavy breathing like the sexual innuendo of some demented pervert, a degenerate who had nothing else better to do than to engage in electronic torment to feed his sick fantasies. Candace sensed a different kind of perversion at play here, a cruel familiarity in this tactic. It reeked of a Lyndon Miller machination; yes, send Mrs. Peabody and Chicago police officer to her home, frighten her and Alex, and then call to let her know that he was enjoying his pathetic game. He was probably smiling that disgusting smile of his assuming that he had broken her that she was cowering at his manipulation. Well, despite her fears, she would not give him that satisfaction.  
  
Candace remembered a song from when she was little about holding one's head up high when walking through a storm and that there was a golden sky at the end of a storm. How many storms had she walked through, how many storms did she still expect to walk through? Life was full of storms. But she had to believe in that golden sky, she just had to. And it was true. She glanced at Alex. Her love for her son would replenish her faith and strength. There was no time to surrender to tears or to whatever agenda Lyndon had planned for her. Not with Alex's future at stake.  
  
There was a golden sky for Candace and his name was Alex.  
  
Candace did not inquire of the mystery caller's identity again. Instead, she slammed down the phone certain that her intentions were conveyed to her ex-father-in-law. A few moments later, she picked up the phone and called for a cab.  
  
A short while later, Mrs. Peabody left the apartment, but not before telling Candace that she was meeting Candace at Columbia General Hospital to make sure that the court order was obeyed. Officer Mallory was silent. But the cop's own bias was etched on his face as he flashed both Gary and Candace an unpleasant look before following Mrs. Peabody out the door, like some obedient junk yard dog salivating for scraps. Perhaps that was one victory, arguably a Pyrrhic one that she and Alex didn't have to deal with a police escort to the hospital.  
  
Alex's sobs had turned into whimpers. The little boy was clearly exhausted as he lay limp and defeated in his mother's arms. Then, an unforgiving chorus of hiccups assaulted him. Instinctively, she gently massaged his back. "It's okay, honey." She soothed.  
  
Gary drank in the poignant scene. Gary felt the anger swelling inside of him. Anger at Mrs. Peabody and Officer Mallory and the indifferent system that they represented. Anger at Lyndon Miller, a man so consumed by hate, that Miller enjoyed hurting Candace and Alex this much. And anger at himself. Maybe if he had just saved Alex in that supermarket and walked away, disappeared, not insinuated himself into their lives, Candace and Alex wouldn't be going through this nightmare.  
  
"I'm sorry." Gary whispered.  
  
Candace seemed puzzled by his apology as their eyes momentarily locked.  
  
Ten minutes later, the cab arrived. As she walked towards the door, she turned back around to face Gary. "I'll call you later. Let you know what happened." She promised.  
  
He proceeded towards her. He gently cupped her face. "You won't have to because I'm going with you. I'm not going to let you and Alex go through this alone."  
  
She managed to give him a weak smile. With Alex in her arms and Gary protectively at her side, they walked out the front door determined to face the invisible Goliath that awaited them at the hospital.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Sixty-Seven  
  
  
  
She felt their eyes the moment she, Alex, and Gary left the apartment. How many eyes, she couldn't tell, but she knew that they were there. Her neighbor's eyes. Curious eyes. Condemning eyes. Eyes partially concealed yet peering out from behind lace curtains. Eyes so intense that their gaze burned.  
  
Her neighbors had been cast in this ill-conceived farce of child abuse with its central characters of a single mother, misunderstood child, handsome stranger, vindictive ex-father-in-law, and indifferent social worker. No doubt that the neighbors' appetites were whetted for the next installment of this juicy saga and their tongues were wagging with gossip and speculation. Still, as Candace walked the path towards the cab, her gait was strong and unwavering. Shame was absent from her stride. She walked tall, proud and determined. Nana had always told her to walk tall, no matter what.  
  
Candace had never "bonded" with her neighbors. Her relationship with them was kept on a detached plane that consisted of a mutual exchange of superficial pleasantries. A "good morning". A "have a nice day". A "this weather sure is getting hot, isn't it"? Very nice. Very above the surface. There was no desire on either of their parts to cultivate anything more lasting and meaningful. Her focus was on her son, on Alex, not on being a social butterfly spending her time inviting a neighbor over for tea and scones for the purpose of exchanging bulletins about another neighbor. And she was aware that many of her neighbors viewed Alex as an anomaly. A few times when she caught their puzzled expressions over Alex's behavior, she tried explaining Asperger's Syndrome to them as simply and as thoroughly as possible. But despite her calm, honest, and well-spoken recitation, the response that was often returned was "Oh, what a shame. And such a beautiful little boy, too. It's a pity that he's retarded." The word "retarded" churned the anger she felt rising restlessly in the pit of her stomach. And they would dress that word, retarded, that misnomer, with the full regalia of bias and judgment. They had no intention of listening with their hearts not when they had chosen to hear through the ears of prejudice.  
  
Before Candace got into the cab, she turned back around to glance at her hidden audience. She had no advocate among those glaring eyes. Suddenly, there was a slight, yet gentle tap on her arm. She turned around and drank in the sincere and comforting mud green eyes. He flashed her a smile. So much warmth was carried on the thread of that smile. She and Alex weren't alone. They had a champion. A protector. His smile told her as much.  
  
Candace, Alex, and Gary entered the cab.  
  
"Where to, Ma'am?" The cab driver inquired.  
  
"Columbia General Hospital." She announced.  
  
Lurking from a vantage point across the street, a voyeur watched Candace, Alex, and Gary. He wasn't a neighbor, but he was very interested in what was happening in the lives of the young mother, the little boy, and her friend.  
  
Chapter Sixty-Eight  
  
There was something about a hospital or a doctor's office that would always inspire fear. The sights. The sounds. The smells. Even with a purported mission of healing, with doctors and nurses running around in a frenzied state like the incessant buzzing of bees congregating around a hive, the healing mission seemed buried under a layer of patient fear. A hospital or a doctor's office was transformed into a lair of doom.  
  
As a boy, he had always viewed a trip to the hospital or doctor's office as the equivalent of awaking a sleeping giant. The giant became angry at being disturbed from its slumber and the poor lad who had incurred the giant's wrath could expect no mercy. He remembered the times when Mom told him that he had to go to the doctor's office for his shots. Needles. His stomach was tied in so many knots. Mom figured that she was being kinder by telling him about an impending doctor's visit the night before, prepare him, but all she did was contribute to his insomnia. Tossing and turning all night. A lump in his throat the size of a golf ball as he tried to eat his breakfast the next morning. And the whole drive to the doctor's office was sheer agony for him. Mom would glance over at him between her concentration on the road and would promise him some treat afterwards if he would be brave. He'd nod and tell her that he would be brave all the while his mud green eyes, glazed over with fear and panic, would betray him. Once they arrived at the dreaded destination, the doctor would lie to him, tell him that the needle would just feel like a little sting and not hurt much. Tell him that he'd get a lollipop afterwards. Well, regardless of how much he braced himself for that shot, the needle did hurt. It hurt something awful. Not a sting kind of hurt, but a throbbing pain. A throbbing pain that lingered for a long time. Hardly worth it for a stupid lollipop.  
  
Those were the memories that evaded Gary's brain as he sat on the seat in the hospital waiting room next to Candace and Alex. There was still so much he had to learn about Asperger's Syndrome, but he recalled from his research and his conversations with Candace how an AS child would cry and scream hysterically when their emotional systems were overloaded with too much stimuli. A meltdown was what Candace called it. Gary remembered how Alex had behaved that day in the supermarket. The pitiful sobs. The eyes seemingly whipped by their own torment. He would never forget the look on Alex's face then.  
  
A child without AS would be scared of a doctor's examination. How would Alex respond to this doctor's touch? Would Mrs. Peabody be in the examination room, like a warden standing guard over an inmate, to make sure that the court order was obeyed? She had made that threat just before she left the apartment. How would Alex be able to handle the terror of the social worker's presence coupled with the doctor's intrusion and his inner demons? The tears. The screams. Were they building up strength inside Alex's body even now and marking the precise moment of eruption? Just like a volcano. A giant wasn't the only thing that exacted vengeance when awakened.  
  
Only there were no tears now. There were no screams. Just stillness. Alex sat on Candace's lap. The little boy looked as fragile as a porcelain doll. The sparkle of his sapphire eyes was replaced with an eerie hollowness. No life shone from them. Alex appeared catatonic.  
  
Gary tried desperately to reach Alex. He promised to buy Alex some more remote control trucks. He talked about Peter Pan and flights to Neverland. He reminded the little boy of the wonderful day that they all would spend at Navy Pier. But nothing inspired a reaction from Alex. Alex just sat there frighteningly still, staring at Gary, an empty, emotionless gaze.  
  
"Can I get you anything?" Gary finally asked Candace a hint of awkwardness in his voice.  
  
"A cup of coffee would be nice." was her reply.  
  
"How about you, buddy?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"How about I see if I can find you a jelly donut, huh? You like jelly donuts, right?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
Candace offered a nod and Gary left the hospital waiting room on his quest for coffee and a jelly donut. He felt a pang in his chest. He felt so helpless.  
  
As Gary wandered the hospital corridor preoccupied, he didn't notice the three women who were approaching. Not until it was too late.  
  
"Gary." The familiar voice said.  
  
"Marcia." He answered somewhat dazed. "Mrs. Roberts." He greeted his former mother-in-law.  
  
A brief, yet uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Hello, Gary." Mrs. Roberts finally responded. Turning to the third woman, Mrs. Roberts added, "Penelope, this is Gary Hobson. Gary, I would like you to meet Penelope Miller."  
  
  
  
Chapter Sixty-Nine  
  
The Hispanic woman and her little boy entered the hospital waiting room and sat down in the seats next to Candace and Alex. The little boy appeared to be Alex's age. He had dark hair and rich brown eyes. But there was something else hidden behind those brown eyes.  
  
Candace glanced at the young mother seated next to her. She flashed the stranger a warm smile. "What a beautiful little boy. How old is he?" Candace asked.  
  
The Hispanic woman returned Candace's smile with a polite nod before offering a response in Spanish. Whether it was a response to Candace's query was a subject of debate. The woman's words raced excitedly from her tongue, purposeful and craving understanding, yet melodious in their execution like the beauty of poetry in motion.  
  
The recitation that had been just given made Candace question whether the woman understood English. Candace certainly didn't understand Spanish except for a few words that she learned in high school and a song about a cockroach that wouldn't provide any help in this instance. But as the two mothers studied the behavior of their little boys, a special understanding was forged between them, an understanding that surmounted the barrier of language. It was an understanding that was perhaps born from the pain of experiencing the ignorance and unkindness of strangers. Nana had told her when she was a little girl that there was no shame in being ignorant. Everyone was ignorant in his or her own way, but it was an ignorance that came from the lack of exposure to something. Different cultures. Different foods. The unknown became scary, threatening, intimidating proposition. The familiar was as comfortable as that toasty blanket on a chilly night.  
  
The shame existed in staying ignorant for ignorance was that which deprived a person of learning something new.  
  
Candace understood what Nana had told her all those years ago. And she had faced the ignorance, too. She saw it in her neighbor's reactions to Alex's behavior. She saw how strangers acted whenever she took her son out. His stares made people very uncomfortable. He had been labeled as retarded. Some people offered pity. Poor little boy. Poor kid. She sensed that some of these people may have felt that Alex should be institutionalize for "his own good."  
  
And there were some people who viewed Alex as spoiled and willful when they witnessed his meltdowns. A brat. An undisciplined child. Screaming. Crying. Thrashing about on the floor. And in public, too. What a disgrace! He would learn how to behave if his mother gave him a good spanking. That's what he needed. Spare the rod, spoil the child. These were the unsolicited opinions that Candace recalled overhearing. Opinions that had been formulated from ignorance.  
  
Sapphire eyes gazed intently at brown eyes. The two pairs of little eyes fixated on each other. If emotions were stirred inside the small bodies, captured, but percolating desperately and seeking an avenue of escape, such intent was masked underneath their expressionless visages. Were two tiny hearts crying out to each other in silent whispers? The little boys were, after all, brethren in the emotional prison that destiny had thrust them. And perhaps their destinies were about to be linked in other ways, ways that neither they nor their mothers realized at this moment.  
  
  
  
Chapter Seventy  
  
The man had waited about ten minutes after Candace, Gary, and Alex left in the cab before he executed the next phase of his plan. He knew that he had to be careful and make certain that the neighbors didn't detect him. Of course, he already had his excuse manufactured, an excuse that was as innocent as a newborn, should someone question his presence. But he prayed that he wouldn't have to use that excuse unless it was absolutely necessary  
  
As it were, he was able to effectuate his agenda flawlessly. There were no prying eyes marking his steps as he walked the path towards Candace's apartment. He placed the key into the lock then waited a moment for the click. Somehow his partner had been able to secure the key. Yet, key or no key, the man was aware that in the eyes of the law he was committing a felony, breaking and entering, and he bristled at the thought. However, his partner had laughed at him when he voiced his concern. Called him a coward, said that he had always been a coward. How he longed to wipe the sickening smug expression off of his partner's face. Here he was taking all of the risks while his partner was hurling insults and bellowing out commands. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he was kidding himself believing that a partnership existed when in truth he was nothing but a glorified lackey.  
  
"Don't get soft on me. We both have the same goal here. If you do what I say, we'll both get what we want out of this." The partner had insisted. And God help him, he believed his partner's words. He had too much at stake to turn back now.  
  
The man entered the apartment and proceeded to the living room. He hadn't expected to find what he was looking for in the living room, but he hesitated for a moment looking around as if he were studying the decor. Or as if he wanted to soak in the "homey" feeling of the room. He imagined that many happy moments were spent in this room. Next, he proceeded to the kitchen. The kitchen was immaculate and smelled of apple spice. He opened some cabinets, why he didn't know. It wasn't like he was going to find what he was seeking between the box of pasta and the Cream of Wheat. Maybe it was just force of habit.  
  
Then his eye caught the loving gallery of artwork gracing the refrigerator. There was barely any room left on the appliance. The refrigerator appeared to have been taken hostage by a little boy's imagination. "To Mommy. Love, Alex." The pictures depicted clouds and people flying. The clouds and people were crudely drawn, more abstract than anything else, but the message was clear from the burst of various colors. The people seemed desperate to get away. They needed to escape. A man, a woman, and a child. They needed to escape. The man held the child in his arms while the woman flew next to him. All three of them were smiling.  
  
But the pictures were just products of a little boy's fantasies as the child struggled with a hellish reality. The man's partner told him about the terrible beatings the little boy endured while the mother was helpless to save her son. She was a victim, too. The man clenched his fists at the thought of the woman's abusive boyfriend.  
  
He proceeded to the child's bedroom. He opened the door and walked in. The wallpaper captured his eye first. Peter Pan, the Darling children, Tinkerbell and an assortment of other denizens from Never Land greeted him. A wooden bookcase overflowed with Rugrats and Blues Clues books. And on the small, car shaped bed sat a teddy bear with big brown eyes. The man's eyes traveled around the room as he stood there in reverent silence, an intruder in a child's private sanctuary. Guilt then sadness washed over him. He didn't belong in this room, especially not this room. He quickly left the room and closed the door behind knowing that the "witnesses" to his intrusion, because they were unable to speak, would not betray him.  
  
His footsteps became heavy, his breathing labored, and his heart pounding as he entered the mother's bedroom. Like a determined soldier, he proceeded to the closet and slid open the door. A sea of dresses, blouses, skirts, sweaters, slacks, and jackets stared back at him. Various pairs of women's shoes occupied a position on the floor inside of the closet, subservient in a way, like devoted ladies in waiting.  
  
However, he was surprised to find that the closet was absent a man's wardrobe. Where was the boyfriend's clothing? The man wondered. While he suspected that Candace, Gary, and Alex would be gone for awhile, the man didn't want to take any chances. He needed to find what he was looking for and get out of the apartment as quickly as possible. He hurried towards the dresser and began opening the drawers. Perhaps the item was hidden under the intimate apparel. He reached under the delicate undergarments, but his quest came up empty. He checked a few more drawers. Still nothing. Frustrated, he walked towards the bed, sat down, removed his cell phone from the back pocket of his pants, flipped the cell phone open, and dialed a number.  
  
Ring.  
  
Ring.  
  
Ring.  
  
No answer.  
  
He closed the cell phone, arose from the bed, and left the room. He realized that he wasn't going to find what he was looking for, at least not today. He would have to think of another way. But as he left the bedroom, he was unaware of the personal item that had fallen from his pocket and had dropped on the floor by the foot of the bed, a possible calling card revealing his identity.  
  
Chapter Seventy-One  
  
Dr. Maranucci closed the manila folder, leaned back against his chair, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. Even after 30 years of practicing medicine with a specialty in pediatrics and 15 years of serving as a court appointed expert witness in the sexual and physical abuse of children, he still wrestled with cases like this. He knew that the law required him to remain impartial, to extricate his personal feelings when rendering professional judgments, but he often viewed such separation as a Herculean task. Cut himself in two. Such a proposition almost seemed to have biblical implications, like something expected from King Solomon. But Solomon was arguably a wise man. He was merely an ordinary man called upon to make some difficult decisions that could sever families.  
  
Not an easy task.  
  
When Mrs. Peabody called to notify him of his court appointment and provided an initial case assessment, he listened attentively. In all the years that he had known the social worker, this was the first time where he detected bias in her voice as she outlined the case. She revealed that the victim (she didn't even use the legally correct buzzword of "alleged") was a little boy who was nearly six years old and was being subjected to repeated physical abuse by his mother's boyfriend. Mrs. Peabody informed him that there were at least two witnesses to the abuse and since her investigation was ongoing, she anticipated discovering additional witnesses. The social worker described the child's mother as "hostile and belligerent and in acute denial of the atrocities perpetrated upon her son." In addition, Mrs. Peabody noted that her evaluation of the boyfriend from her interactions with the young man was that he demonstrated "violent tendencies and that he was a time bomb ready to explode at any moment." Mrs. Peabody further explained that she suspected that the boyfriend abused alcohol. Finally, she told Dr. Maranucci that she was prepared to go before a judge for an emergency petition to have the child removed from his mother's custody today once the examination was completed and Dr. Maranucci offered his findings. And she planned to recommend to the District Attorney that criminal neglect and abuse charges be initiated against the mother and her boyfriend, respectively.  
  
Dr. Maranucci hadn't given Mrs. Peabody much by way of commentary during the phone call. The only thing that he would say was that he intended to follow the guidelines of his profession as well as the statutes of the state of Illinois. There was a silence in the conversation before Mrs. Peabody remarked that was what she expected him to do. Then she hung up the phone and he reviewed his notes from the folder marked "Alex Miller." While Mrs. Peabody appeared to have an opened and shut case for abuse, Dr. Maranucci was determined not to allow the social worker's thoughts to influence his opinions. Removal of a child from a parent's custody, even if only temporary, was devastating and could produce long lasting emotional scars. The court embraced the "best interests of the child standard" and sought to balance the standard with a commitment towards preserving the family unit. Sometimes a parent was provided with services such as counseling and classes in parenting skills that made it possible for a reunion to occur. Too often, though, a child was never able to return to his natural parent's custody and the parent's rights were terminated. The "luckier" children ended up being adopted by foster parents. However, the majority of these children were sad statistics caught in the social services system and never securing permanent homes. Many of these lost souls became so angry over their circumstances that their pent up anger was unleashed during adulthood where they became violent offenders and found a new home in the criminal justice system. Dr. Maranucci knew that it was crucial that he made the right decision at this juncture in the case of this little boy. The possible repercussions of an ill-advised decision on his part would be unspeakable.  
  
Somehow, though, the stakes seemed even higher in this instance. Dr. Maranucci realized that the alleged victim was an autistic child. While his knowledge of Asperger's Syndrome was limited, he had read some of the literature. He knew that a percentage of these children with Pervasive Development Disorders (PDD) exhibited suicidal and violent behavior that manifested particularly in adolescence when a desire for peer approval was at its highest. AS and PDD erected an armor from exposing emotions; the fixations and fantasies of these afflicted children provided ammunition for other children to view them as different and to ridicule them. A child ripped from the bosom of his natural mother would be completely defenseless.  
  
A difficult choice, indeed.  
  
Dr. Maranucci let out an exhausted breath. He placed his glasses back on his face before looking at his watch. In a very short while, the doctor would be deciding the fate of the little boy.  
  
There could be no mistakes.  
  
Chapter Seventy-Two  
  
Gary extended his hand to Mrs. Miller. "Nice to meet you." He greeted her warmly.  
  
Penelope accepted his handshake. "Nice to meet you." She echoed politely.  
  
"Gary used to be my son-in-law." Mrs. Roberts offered awkwardly.  
  
Penelope glanced at Gary then at Marcia. "I see."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Mom and Mrs. Miller are on the hospital fundraising committee for a new Pediatric Aids wing. It's something that's going to be revolutionary. It's going to be a place where there will be more of a collaborative effort between parents and doctors in the treatment of children." Marcia volunteered.  
  
"That's good." Gary replied simply.  
  
"Penelope, why don't you and I talk to the hospital administrator about our idea for the charity ball." Mrs. Roberts suggested. "It was good seeing you again, Gary,"  
  
"You too, Mrs. Roberts."  
  
The society matrons quickly proceeded down the hallway leaving the former spouses alone.  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Well, I should be going to." Gary said. He turned around and started to walk away.  
  
"No, Gary, wait."  
  
The sound of her voice paralyzed his steps. He turned back around to face her. "The last time that we spoke, there was some...some tension between us and that was my fault. I said some things that I shouldn't have said. I let my imagination run wild when I saw you with that little boy. I don't know what I was thinking. It just had to be a strange coincidence that he looked so much like you. I know that you wouldn't have fathered a child and kept it a secret from me. I shouldn't have..."  
  
"Slapped me?"  
  
"Yes. I'm very sorry, Gary." Marcia paused for a moment before continuing. "You know, I've been thinking."  
  
"About?"  
  
"About us."  
  
"About us? Marcia, there is no us. Us...you and me...that ended that day in the lawyer's office. You saw to that now, didn't you?"  
  
She gazed deeply into his eyes. "I don't know. You seem different. More involved. Is there someone new in your life? Look, I know that this sounds crazy, but why don't we have dinner sometime soon?"  
  
"Marcia."  
  
"You were right, Gary. We never got a chance to talk before the divorce. And I owe you an explanation for...well, there are a lot of things that we should talk about. And it's just dinner. No strings. I promise."  
  
A brief, yet uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Gary?"  
  
"I'll think about it." He finally replied hesitantly.  
  
Marcia smiled. "Good. What about tonight?"  
  
Oh Boy.  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"Yes. You can come over to my place. I'll make us some dinner. Nothing fancy. And we can talk. It'll be a nice, quiet, uncomplicated evening between...friends."  
  
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Marcia, I don't...I don't think that I can...tonight? Well, I...ah..."  
  
Marcia inched closer towards Gary narrowing the space between them. The smell of her perfume strangled him. She was in control. And she knew it.  
  
No. No, he wasn't going to allow her to do this. He owed her nothing. He wasn't going to let this happen. He wasn't going to...  
  
Then it did. It happened.  
  
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. He swallowed hard. "Call me." She whispered seductively into his ear. Then she looked at him.  
  
He nodded his agreement almost as if he were in a trance. She flashed him one last smile, victorious, it seemed, as she walked away.  
  
He stared at her for a long time before she disappeared from view like an apparition teasing the subconscious. Then he looked at his hand, at his wedding ring. He twisted the gold band around his finger.  
  
But somehow he had the feeling that there was no turning back now.  
  
Chapter Seventy-Three  
  
To the casual observer, it meant nothing. But to a mother, the sound was everything. It was rapturous. It was a sound that had gently caressed her heart and reminded her that God was indeed watching over her and her son; that God was carrying them even if they couldn't feel His arms. That God was giving them hope in a situation that appeared hopeless. To the casual observer, it meant nothing. But to Candace, it was the best sound in the world. It was like a vibrant rainbow emerging after an angry thunderstorm, a vainglorious kaleidoscope of colors breaking through depressed and uninspired gray skies.  
  
Alex giggled. It was a faint noise at first and even he seemed startled by the sound.  
  
She had been unable to reach him. It was the first time that she had been completely helpless in reaching her son. Alex's emotions had been trapped, tightly sealed in his little body, as he became a victim to his grandfather's hateful schemes. Gary had been unable to reach him too; even talk of Navy Pier, remote control trucks, and flights to Never Land could not penetrate through the wall of Alex's emotional prison.  
  
God forgive her, but sitting there cradling her son's limp body, looking into his face so void of recognition even for her, for his mother, Candace had considered (albeit for a millisecond) whether a meltdown was preferable to this state of catatonia. Through sobs and screams at least she would know that he was feeling something, anything. She could hold him, comfort him, and lead him back from the depths of his private hell towards solace. He had always depended on her in the past to help him find his way back after a meltdown.  
  
Yet, there was no journey back from this inertia; existing in a shell offered nothing but a core of emptiness.  
  
But God somehow heard the desperate whispers of the little boy. A chorus of giggles had been ignited from a surprising thread of trust. It seemed as if the two little boys stared at each other for a very long time. No words. No sounds. Just silent stares; or, maybe they were talking through their eyes and sending invisible messages directly to each other's hearts like some deliberate Morse Code.  
  
That was when it happened. An unexpected leap of faith.  
  
Tomas had tapped his mother on the arm. Pilar understood her son's gesture. Instinctively, she opened her over-sized black purse, removed the small yellow toy dump truck with big black wheels, and handed the item to her son. But instead of playing with the toy, hoarding it, Tomas unselfishly offered it to Alex.  
  
"Tomas." The tiny voice, thick with a Spanish accent, revealed. He patted his chest gesturing to himself as he said his name. "Here."  
  
Alex studied the object, then the benefactor, before hesitantly accepting the bounty. Then he smiled. And Tomas smiled. Alex mumbled a few words before proceeding to roll the truck back and forth on the arm of the seat. The wheels of the truck were so big. Alex had never seen wheels that big. Monster wheels. Happy monsters.  
  
The thought of the "happy monsters" caused Alex to giggle as his little fingers played with truck examining the rubber wheels as if they were gold.  
  
"Mrs. Ramirez? The doctor will see you now." A nurse entered the waiting room and uttered in Spanish.  
  
Pilar arose from the seat. "Alex, give Tomas back his truck. And don't forget to say thank you." Candace said.  
  
Alex seemed sad to part with the toy, but he nodded and did what his mother told him to do. However, Tomas refused to accept the toy. "Keep. A present." Tomas announced.  
  
Alex returned his new friend's smile. "Thank you."  
  
As Tomas walked with his mother, he turned back around and stole one last glance with Alex. Alex smiled and waved goodbye.  
  
To the casual observer, it meant nothing. But to the mothers, the smiles, giggles, and waves meant everything.  
  
Chapter Seventy-Four  
  
The "happy monsters" were still roaring forcefully when Gary re-entered the hospital waiting room carrying a cup of black coffee and a jelly donut.  
  
He approached Candace. "I couldn't remember how you liked your coffee. I hope that black is okay." He said to her as he handed her the cup.  
  
"Black is fine. Thanks." Was her reply. She gratefully accepted the hot liquid.  
  
Alex had surrendered his position seated on his mother's lap and was now playing a few feet away from her. He stood next to a small wooden end table that served as his "road" for the dump truck. Very methodically and with his face marked with determination, the little boy pushed the toy back and forth along the hard surface.  
  
Gary proceeded to where Alex was standing. "Wow! That's some truck. Driving a truck like that means that you need to keep up your strength. Here ya go, buddy." Gary said offering the jelly donut to Alex.  
  
Alex momentarily looked up from his task, those beautiful sapphire eyes sparkling with a renewed sense of purpose. "My name is Alex." He reminded Gary.  
  
"Right, Alex, I'm sorry." Gary apologized. That was something that he needed to remember from his research about children with Asperger's Syndrome: they took everything literally. A nickname like "buddy" was cause for confusion. And a witticism like "cat got your tongue" would likely produce great emotional upset for an AS child imagining a predatory feline's sharp teeth mercilessly gripping on a human tongue in its quest to subdue a prey.  
  
The little fingers eagerly welcomed the jelly donut. Alex took a healthy bite yet continued focusing his attention on the truck.  
  
Gary smiled. He had no idea what had occurred from the time he left the waiting room until his return, but he said a silent prayer of thanks that life had been restored back to Alex. The look of contentment on Alex's face was a joy to observe.  
  
He walked back towards Candace. She must have anticipated his question for she remarked "After you left, Alex made a new friend. This beautiful little boy and his mother were in here waiting to see the doctor. He gave Alex that truck."  
  
Again, she seemed to sense his next query because she added. "It was like a miracle. Psychologists told me that Alex would probably never open up to strangers, that he would always feel emotionally alienated. But he opened up to you and now Tomas. That's the little boy's name. I guessed from Tomas' behavior that he probably has AS. Watching him was like seeing Alex through another child. When he and Alex looked at each other, it was like...it was like they were old friends who had found each other again. There was this special trust and familiarity. He was the only one who could reach Alex because he understood what it meant to have AS."  
  
Gary turned back around and glanced at Alex. The little boy's face shone as bright as a Christmas tree. Alex was engaged in spirited conversation with himself, a role-play exercise where his imagination had invited some invisible friends to join in the merriment. And if happiness were its own reward, Alex's words were periodically peppered with giggles.  
  
Gary smiled. Turning back to face Candace, he said, "You see, things are starting to look up for you and Alex."  
  
Before Candace had the chance to respond to Gary's remark, a nurse entered the waiting room. "Mrs. Miller, Dr. Maranucci is ready to see you and your son."  
  
Chapter Seventy-Five  
  
The walk down the hospital corridor seemed endless. And dizzying. It wasn't that his gait was frenzied. He walked at a natural rhythm, a normal tempo that gave no hint of the incredible anxiety that he felt. His stomach wasn't just confronting a few errant butterflies; no, the forceful churning felt as if a wallflower caterpillar had attended a sorority party with hundreds of butterflies. The virgin caterpillar's "sisters" were swirling around eagerly awaiting her "coming out." And she did...the caterpillar transformed into a butterfly before their eyes. And the change was done with such a vengeance that he strongly felt the after effects.  
  
God, he was so dizzy!  
  
Bland white walls mingled with equally uninspired white doors (marking the patient rooms and various offices). The numbers and names inscribed on placards affixed on the side of the walls meshed and tricked his vision. For a moment, he detected no distinguishing characteristic from one door to the next. The numbers and names didn't even matter anymore, not that they really mattered to him anyway. He felt as if he were driving along the highway with similar stretches of road and where signs were conspicuously absent. The similarity in the road became mundane and boring, hypnotic in a way with only the music pouring from the car radio jolting him and keeping him alert. But at the end of that long drive, at least he expected to reach a desired destination. What could he expect, what could any of them expect, once they reached the destination at the end of this long walk? Would the nightmare finally be over or had this doctor been recruited as yet another contract performer in a rich man's hateful saga of revenge?  
  
They were about to find out.  
  
The nurse was oblivious to the drama as she led the way for the trio. Gary glanced over at Candace and Alex. There was such a quiet strength etched on her face. He continued to be amazed by her grace and elegance in such a difficult situation. She had done nothing wrong, of course, but her ability as a mother was being questioned and undermined by forces beyond her control. Anyone with half a brain should be able to see her love and devotion to her little boy. He looked at Alex. With his right hand, Alex held on tightly to his mother's hand. He clutched the toy dump truck in his left hand. There was no fear painted on his face. What expression Gary could detect on the child's face seemed to be one of bewilderment. But would that expression be changed to horror once Alex faced the doctor's examination? God, he wished he could end all of this right now. Candace and Alex had already been through so much. He didn't want them to have to suffer anymore.  
  
Finally, they reached the end of the hallway. He read the sign of the door- Dr. John Maranucci. They were here. He took a deep breath. This was one time that he wished that his early edition could tell him that a favorably outcome was imminent.  
  
The nurse knocked on the door. It only took a moment before the door opened and the lanky, middle-aged man with dark glasses and a receding hairline appeared. "Doctor, the Millers and their son are here." The nurse announced. Dr. Maranucci looked at Candace and Alex then at Gary. Gary wondered if the physician realized the nurse's faux pas.  
  
Dr. Maranucci flashed a smile. To Gary, the smile seemed sincere, but he wasn't sure. "Come in." Dr. Maranucci said as if he were inviting guests into his home. "Thank you, nurse." Dr. Maranucci added. The nurse nodded before proceeding down the hallway in the direction in which they came. Candace, Alex, and Gary entered the doctor's office.  
  
Alex's little body tensed when he saw her. Mrs. Peabody stood in the office. Her arms were crossed and there was a scowl on her face. Instinctively, Candace picked up her son. Surprisingly, Alex hadn't screamed, but he buried his face against his mother. Candace could feel his body shaking.  
  
Gary had to do something. "She's not going to be here while you examine Alex, is she?" Gary asked Dr. Maranucci indicating Mrs. Peabody.  
  
"I most certainly am. I'm the social worker on this case and it is within my rights to observe the procedure for my report." Mrs. Peabody replied indignantly.  
  
Dr. Maranucci studied Alex's demeanor for a moment. Then the physician exchanged glances with Gary and Mrs. Peabody.  
  
"Are you this boy's father?" Dr. Maranucci asked.  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"That I will ask you to leave. The child seems upset and I believe that your presence is causing that." Dr. Maranucci responded to Gary.  
  
Oh Boy. Gary knew that Mrs. Peabody had selected this doctor. Had Dr. Maranucci already drawn his own conclusions based on his dealings with the social worker?  
  
Mrs. Peabody flashed Gary a triumphant look. "Yes, Mr. Hobson. I think that you have done enough where this child is concerned." Her voice peppered with hostility.  
  
Gary looked at Candace. Her face still revealed strength but he could also see a vulnerability. She and Alex were lambs in a wolf's lair. Candace nodded but managed to flash Gary a weak smile. Gary felt helpless as he started for the door.  
  
"And I expect you to leave as well, Mrs. Peabody. It is my professional opinion that the less people present for this examination, the better it will be for Alexander." Dr. Maranucci revealed.  
  
Gary stopped. He turned back around. Both he and Candace were surprised. But not more surprised than Mrs. Peabody who appeared shocked and offended by the request. "I need to be here to be certain that the integrity of the examination is maintained." The social worker argued.  
  
"Mrs. Peabody, I hope that you don't mean to imply from that statement that you question my professionalism. I intend to conduct this examination as I have done with similar ones over the years and to render impartial and objective findings. Further, I am well aware of the statutes governing these matters and it is within my discretion as the doctor to limit the parties who may witness the examination. This isn't a circus and judging from this child's behavior, it is my opinion that it would be best if only his mother were present." Dr. Maranucci countered. "Now, I'm sure that given my record all these years, a record that you are very much aware of, that you won't have a problem with leaving will you?"  
  
Mrs. Peabody was clearly displeased, but she offered no counter argument. "Certainly not, Doctor."  
  
"Good. Then you and Mr. Hobson can wait outside. This shouldn't take too long and I'll be out to talk with you as soon as my work is finished."  
  
Chapter Seventy-Six  
  
For fifteen minutes, a little boy's piercing screams penetrated through the door. The agonizing sounds flooded the hallway like an intrusive fog blanketing an unsuspecting city.  
  
As Gary leaned against the wall outside of Dr. Maranucci's office, the sound of Alex's loud wails stabbed at his heart. For a moment, he considered rushing in there, a fully charged and determined hero, and ending all of this. But logic wrestled with his emotions and emerged the victor. Gary knew that if he did that, Dr. Maranucci or Mrs. Peabody would most likely call the police and have him arrested. He wasn't as worried about what would happen to him as he was worried about the affect that his actions would have on Alex and Candace. For Alex, would the frenzy of having him burst through that door remind the boy of that day in the supermarket? Gary had good intentions that day, just as now, but Alex still suffered from the onslaught of vigilant stimuli. The child's silent companion, Asperger's Syndrome, did not welcome a well-meaning and at the time, uninformed, rescuer. And now, a doctor's examination and his mother's efforts at soothing him, coupled with Gary's sudden appearance, could cripple Alex's fragile psyche. Not to mention that it would be unlikely that Mrs. Peabody would stand by idly. The social worker would insinuate herself into that room the moment that Gary moved a muscle. He could imagine her manipulating the event around to fuel her allegations that he is an abuser. He could imagine Candace defending his actions that would provide additional grist for an insidious plot. "See, I told you that he was violent and the mother just sits there and allows him to do whatever he wants. That poor child." He could hear Mrs. Peabody's indictment echoing in his head. He would never forgive himself if his conduct resulted Candace losing Alex.  
  
So he stood there, numb. And he flinched as if he were in agony himself, absorbing the pain of Alex's tormented cries. Each gut wrenching note from the little boy rained from the walls like a tropical storm..  
  
Mrs. Peabody stood there, too; yet, the look on her face seemed as cold and unfeeling as a sphinx. How could a woman who claimed to devote her life to social services, to protecting the welfare of children, so masterfully hide traces of emotion after hearing Alex's tortured display? Periodically, he glanced over at the woman. She caught his stare, looked at him condemningly, before continuing to write something in her folder. What lies were pouring through her mind and being memorialized on those pages as evidence? He wondered.  
  
Then suddenly, and without warning, Alex's cries and screams stopped. It became frighteningly silent. The eerie stillness offered its own burdens by plaguing him with an avalanche of worst case scenarios.  
  
He could feel his heart pounding so forcefully in his chest that the noise punctured his eardrums. What had happened to end Alex's turmoil? He needed to go in there. He needed to...  
  
That was when the door opened and Dr. Maranucci appeared. The doctor looked at Mrs. Peabody before glancing at Gary. He was unable to read the expression on Dr. Maranucci's face. Gary swallowed hard.  
  
"I have concluded my examination of Alexander. The results of my objective findings are quite irrefutable and does give me some cause for concern." Dr. Maranucci began cryptically.  
  
Chapter Seventy-Seven  
  
There was no bellowing voice from a bailiff. There were no bevies of condemning eyes studying him, peeling through the carefully guarded layers of his persona, and leaving him naked from their judgments. And there was no palpable gasp emanating from a member of a courtroom gallery whose carefully stifled emotions had finally broken free from the pain of anticipation.  
  
This wasn't a courtroom. There was no jury. Nonetheless, a verdict had been rendered.  
  
"Thank you so much, Doctor." Mrs. Peabody interjected. "Once you finalize your written report, I will add your findings to my investigation and petition the court today for emergency removal of Alexander from his mother's custody and for placement into foster care." Turning to Gary, she said, "as for you, Mr. Hobson, you're disgraceful. Taking your failings out on a little boy. Beating him and making him promise not to tell anyone. What you have done to that child is just shameful. No, it's criminal. And I'm going to make sure that you don't hurt him or any other child ever again. I'm going to recommend to the district attorney's office that you be prosecuted for child abuse and punished to the fullest extent of the law. A man like you should be taken off of the streets and I'm going to see to it that you..."  
  
"Enough!" Dr. Maranucci roared the unexpected force of his voice startling both Gary and Mrs. Peabody. "Mrs. Peabody, you could have at least permitted me the courtesy of explaining my objective findings before you proceeded on this tirade." Dr. Maranucci scolded. The doctor paused briefly before continuing. "What I was about to say is that the results of my objective findings are irrefutable, but they do give me great cause for concern. Based on my examination of Alexander, I'm one hundred percent certain that these allegations of physical abuse are completely without merit. I did not find any evidence of bruising. What I found instead was a well-nourished, well-cared for little boy. I can understand Mrs. Peabody that Social Services needs to take every allegation of suspected child abuse seriously and up until today, I have respected the level of integrity that you have demonstrated in your work. Many children owe their lives to your stellar efforts. However, with this case, you have made a mockery out of the very system that you have been charged with enforcing. And instead of serving as a tireless advocate for the best interests of a child, you have subjected Alexander and his mother to a terribly upsetting ordeal. You have been unprofessional and biased. Not only have you not maintained impartiality with this case, but you had also sought to contaminate my opinions with your prejudices. I have no idea why you have personalized this case to such an extent that you wanted to brand Mr. Hobson and Mrs. Miller as criminals and frankly, I don't care. What I do care about, and what gives me great cause for concern, is that there could be another case that triggered this kind of shameful behavior from you. To be fair to you, I can understand that the work that you do isn't easy. I can understand even that perhaps it has made you a bit hardened. But that's no excuse. If you have personal issues that would interfere with you doing your job, then I suggest that you seek professional help. Therefore, along with my objective findings, I will be including in my written report my concerns about your conduct. Understand that I'm not doing this to cause you any trouble. My hope is that you will re-evaluate your behavior because it is very destructive and that you will take affirmative steps so that you'll be able to do the job that I know that you are capable of doing. Now I think that you owe Mr. Hobson an apology."  
  
But no apology from Mrs. Peabody would be forthcoming. Instead, she shot Gary one last angry stare before retreating like a wounded animal stripped of its dignity. Gary watched the departing social worker hoping that this was the last time he would ever cross paths with the woman.  
  
Dr. Maranucci extended his hand to Gary. "My apologies, Mr. Hobson, for that unpleasant scene and for my behavior towards you in my office."  
  
Gary accepted the handshake. "I understand, Doctor. You were just doing your job. But...but about Alex. I heard him screaming in there. Is he okay?" He asked his tone laced with concern.  
  
"He had a difficult time, but I believe that he's fine now. Actually, Mr. Hobson, before you go back into my office, there is something that I need to ask you regarding that little boy."  
  
Chapter Seventy-Eight  
  
Peter Pan didn't want to fly. Maybe Peter Pan was tired. Perhaps Wendy was tired, too. But it was okay because they didn't have to fly if they didn't want to. He wouldn't make them.  
  
Dr. Maranucci had left Candace and Alex alone in the office. Alex's hiccups had also finally stopped. That was the thing about a lot of crying; he always got the hiccups afterwards. And screaming always made his tummy hurt. Mommy would rub his tummy to make him feel better.  
  
His eyes still glistening from the unshed remnants of tears Alex sat on the examination table. He pushed the toy dump truck with the big wheels along the padded surface. The "happy monsters" purred in gratitude from the little boy's devotion and attention. And any imaginary friends that Alex had invited to partake in the merriment would have to share the bounty with some late additions to the "party"- Peter Pan and Wendy. Alex placed the little plastic figures of Peter Pan and Wendy into the dump truck. He smiled at his handiwork.  
  
Earlier, the doctor's touch hadn't felt like the tentacles of some evil and conquering monster, but those hands had frightened him. Mommy told him that everything was going to be okay. Yet, she seemed so far away. He felt as if he had been trapped in a dark cave far away from Mommy where his screams and sobs overpowering that cave. He could hear Mommy, so he thought, and he thought that he felt her soft fingers lightly and gently caressing his arms. But the doctor touched him, too. The doctor's touch didn't feel soft like Mommy's. The doctor's touch made him scream and cry.  
  
Finally, there had been no more screams or cries left inside of his body. Alex had surrendered to the exhaustion of his torment. A short while later, the doctor stopped touching him. The doctor said sorry for making him cry. Then the doctor told him that he was a very brave little boy. Sapphire eyes had studied Dr. Maranucci intently when the physician walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and removed a plastic bag. The plastic bag was about the size of those large bags of popcorn that a person would get at the movies. Dr. Maranucci explained that the bag contained "surprises" for all the brave little children that he examined. Dr. Maranucci told Alex that he could select one of the surprises. Alex glanced at Candace. She smiled then nodded. Alex looked into the bag, hesitantly, not quite certain if he wanted to reach his hand inside. There were lollipops, M & Ms, and assortments of other sugary treats. There were also some little toys. Alex's eyes feasted on something inside of that bag that was far more precious to him than any of those edible goodies. He saw the tiny plastic figures of Peter Pan and Wendy. Any hesitation or fears quickly evaporated as eager little fingers resolved to rescue his friends. Alex "saved" both Peter Pan and Wendy from their confinement.  
  
Dr. Maranucci had briefly tried to explain that Alex was supposed to have only one item. Yet, those beautiful little eyes that appeared to silently plead for permission to keep both toys had apparently seduced the good- hearted doctor. Consequently, Dr. Maranucci smiled before saying that it looked like Peter Pan and Wendy had found a new home.  
  
Alex paused from his playing as if he were contemplating something important. Peter Pan was a hero just like Superman. But for the little boy, neither Peter Pan nor Superman would compare to the best hero in the whole world. Alex's favorite hero didn't have a cape, but Alex was sure that his hero could still fly. His hero could do anything. His hero would even eat nasty lima beans so that he wouldn't have to eat them.  
  
This time it wasn't a chorus of shy giggles (like in the hospital waiting room) that had filled the room. The sound of full-blown laughter had replaced a child's screams. It was a miracle, in a way. An unexpected blessing.  
  
Asperger's Syndrome had robbed Alex of the ability to find words to describe what he was feeling. But at this moment, words were unnecessary. Alex's laughter had broken through his emotional barriers and had effectively communicated his feelings. Alex was happy.  
  
It was about time.  
  
Chapter Seventy-Nine  
  
Dr. Maranucci studied Gary intently. The physician hesitated briefly before speaking not quite certain how to broach the subject.  
  
Gary sensed the doctor's hesitation and discomfort. Yet, if there was something concerning Alex, he wanted to know. "Doctor, you said that there was something that you needed to ask me regarding Alex." He finally asked breaking the uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Yes. Mr. Hobson, I...well, how can I put this delicately?" Dr. Maranucci began cautiously. "Before I examine a child in cases of suspected abuse, I like to get as thorough a history as possible. Often, the objective considerations lend themselves to subjective truths."  
  
Gary flashed Dr. Maranucci a confused look. "Doctor, I don't...I'm not sure that I understand what you mean."  
  
"What I mean, Mr. Hobson, is that medicine doesn't operate in a vacuum. A proper diagnosis is often grounded in both subjective and objective bases. In speaking with Mrs. Miller, it is my understanding that she is divorced and that her husband left the family. She also told me that you are a very good friend to both her and Alexander, that you are an important part of their lives. I observed your concern for the child when you came into my office and looking at you, I couldn't help but notice your uncanny resemblance to that little boy."  
  
" Now wait a second, Doc. I already told you that I'm not Alex's father." Gary said defensively.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"My apologies, Mr. Hobson. I'm very sorry. It was wrong of me. It certainly isn't my business to speculate about your personal life and that wasn't my intention at all. My purpose for bringing up such a sensitive matter wasn't to embarrass you or to impugn yours or Mrs. Miller's reputations. I was sincere earlier when I said how much I abhorred Mrs. Peabody's shameful handling of this case. However, my concern here is the welfare of that little boy in there. Mr. Hobson, I take it that you're aware that Alexander is autistic."  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"And do you fully understand what that means?" Dr. Maranucci probed.  
  
"Yes, sir. Alex has Asperger's Syndrome. I've been doing some research on it. I want to learn everything I can about Asper...ah...AS so that I'll be able to help him and Candace."  
  
"You've been reading books?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Dr. Maranucci paused briefly before continuing. "It's commendable that you're educating yourself with the available literature. But it will take more than reading books to help you fully understand what it means to deal with an autistic child. Books offer just a blueprint, Mr. Hobson. There are so many things about autism that you won't find in books. I've attended medical school. And I've served an internship and residency in pediatrics. In the course of my practice over the years, I've treated autistic children. I've also read some scholarly journals on the subject. Still, I would be lying to you if I claimed to fully understand autism. I've seen parents come into my office incredibly frustrated because they have no idea how to reach their child. And the child is confronting so many confusing and upsetting emotions. The world can be confusing and upsetting enough, but for an autistic child, it's like turning up the radio and blaring the sound at the loudest possible volume. Their emotions are disorderly, hostile sometimes. The emotions are screaming at the child. Often, the only way that a child can fight back is through his own counterattack of screams and sobs. It takes strong parents to be able to put aside their own frustrations and focus exclusively on helping their child through the nightmare. And it can be a nightmare, Mr. Hobson. The screams and sobs that you heard from Alexander a short while ago were just the tip of the iceberg. Who knows how much that little boy has already gone through? Alexander is a child who will have to live with the affects of autism for the rest of his life. He'll have to deal with the curious stares and the unpleasant commentary from people who are frightened because they don't understand his behavior and are unwilling to learn. I suspect that Mrs. Peabody was one of those people. And at the risk of sounding unfair because I've never met the man, I'd surmise that Mr. Miller also belonged to this group. Perhaps the man was looking for the perfect child and having an autistic son shattered his dream of perfection so much that he left his family. I'm not proud to admit this, but I guess that I'm a bit prejudiced myself. "  
  
"You?"  
  
"Yes. I'm making judgments about a man that I don't know based on what I believe to be his actions when I'm not privy to all of the facts. But I guess I feel that for a man to desert his child because that child doesn't live up to some ideal, well, that's the definition of a coward in my book."  
  
Another brief silence.  
  
"Dr. Maranucci, I really don't know why you're telling me all of this."  
  
"Unlike Alexander's father, you have no legal or moral obligation to that little boy. You can walk away from him right now."  
  
"I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that."  
  
"Then, Mr. Hobson, I think that if you haven't done it already, you need to take a good, long, hard look at your life and decide whether it is a life that will accommodate having a child with Alexander's special needs. You need to ask yourself what you want your role in that little boy's life to be. Because I will warn you that you may have to deal with some things because of his autism that you may not be prepared to deal with. You owe it to yourself and to Alexander to ask yourself whether you are ready, willing, and able to accept this responsibility. Mr. Miller apparently wasn't. That child needs a sense of permanency which will help him and his mother handle this burden. He doesn't need people floating in and out of his life. Are you prepared to give Alexander that? Are you prepared to give that child a sense of permanency, Mr. Hobson?"  
  
Chapter Eighty  
  
The gold wedding band on his finger suddenly felt very tight as it bit into his flesh and gnawed at his circulation. Funny but that ring never felt so oppressive before.  
  
Permanency.  
  
He had always embraced that word or rather, that word had embraced him. Maybe permanency was a cousin to commitment. Both attributes were something that he learned at his parents' knee. For all of their quirks and for how unconventional and often frustrating Mom and Dad could be, the two things that he never doubted were their love for him and their love and commitment to each other. He could be sure of the permanency of his parents' marriage. Their marriage was as solid as the rock of Gibraltar.  
  
He had thought that his own matrimonial union was as strong. When Marcia placed that wedding band on his finger and the minister pronounced them husband and wife, the ring immediately became a part of him. His wedding ring became as necessary an appendage as one of his limbs. He knew that he would never take it off. To remove his wedding ring would be akin to removing one of his vital organs. "To death do us part" he had pledged to her at that altar without hesitation. He didn't mourn the end of his bachelor hood nor had he offered a eulogy to the end of his freedom. Being single wasn't freedom to him. To him, there was nothing more liberating than joining one's life with a soul mate. If he had been searching for himself, attempting to make some sense out of his place in this universe to be, he felt that he had found the answers gazing into her eyes and once their hearts had connected their destinies. He didn't have to run anymore except into her waiting arms. "To death do us part" he remembered. She had reciprocated his pledge, echoing those words, and sealing her promise with a smile, gleam in her eye, and a tender yet sensual kiss to his lips. His smile, the gleam in his eye, and his acceptance of that kiss on that magical day had cemented the pledge deep within his soul. They were so happy. And he believed her when she vowed that their marriage would last forever.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
He had wanted so desperately to believe that she had loved him as much as he had loved her. Yet, the callous way that she had broken her promise and ended their marriage had damaged his pleasant memories of her including all of those heartfelt declarations of love that she had once professed. She had left him naked with vulnerability and mistrust, left him raw inside, and perhaps hardened to the notion of romance. A part of him wanted to don those rosy colored glasses again; yet now, he wondered if he would ever be able to see out of them. He wanted to get married again someday and to have children. However, a cynic is blind to optimism and hope. Sadly, he had become a cynic.  
  
Would permanency even feel welcome at his door now? That was a question that he wasn't sure if he could even answer. What could he remember about entertaining so important a guest and making that guest into a life-long friend? He had failed as a husband. He had failed as a stockbroker. And, for Pete's sake, he lived in a hotel! Such accommodations were more appropriate for transients than for people who espoused notions of permanency.  
  
Then there was The Paper. It had been a few weeks since the arrival of the mysterious early edition and the orange tabby on his doorstep. And for these few weeks he had fulfilled The Paper's demands, stumbling (yet successful for the most part) through heroics. Hero. Even without a ridiculous skin-hugging costume complete with tights and having to wear his undergarments "outside" of his clothes (like the tights weren't embarrassing enough?) he blushed at his newfound role. It was a role that he had asked for.  
  
A little annoying voice in the back of his head cautioned him to get used to being a hero. You wanted permanency...you got it, man! A cat and a newspaper. To death do you part. This is your "marriage", Gary Hobson. Welcome to your life!  
  
He shivered then he dismissed the thought. The Paper and that cat had suddenly entered his life. There had been no warning or preparation. It was conceivable that The Paper and cat could just as easily disappear from his life. Maybe he was merely a substitute, a stand-in, until a "real" hero could be located. Yes...that was it. He was sure that he wouldn't have to worry about handling The Paper for much longer.  
  
Still, he wanted to give Alex a sense of permanency, but how could he do that? Should he tell Candace about The Paper? Alex didn't understand the last time when he had to break his promise about Navy Pier because he had to help someone in need. Maybe if he told Candace about The Paper, she could help him explain things to Alex in a way that the little boy would understand it if The Paper interfered again with their plans. But Candace might think that he was a nut if he shared his secret with her. He couldn't risk that. Maybe he needed to stop being so afraid and he should tell Candace everything including how he felt about her.  
  
No, you idiot, it's too soon. Gary's inner voice berated.  
  
Except what if it wasn't?  
  
An idea took root in his head even as the sound of Dr. Maranucci's beeper broke his reverie.  
  
"I need to take this." The physician announced. "I hope that you will think carefully about what I said, Mr. Hobson. Good luck to you." Dr. Maranucci said sincerely before walking away.  
  
As Gary proceeded towards Dr. Maranucci's office to rejoin Candace and Alex, his idea, as crazy as it seemed, was finding acceptance in his brain. Perhaps if he did this he could solve all of their problems.  
  
Chapter Eighty-One  
  
The silence in the cab was different this time. It held no expectation of impending doom nor bore witness to the seemingly catatonic state of a child trapped in his own emotional prison.  
  
Then, a little boy's eerie stillness had been painful to observe for those who loved him. Muted tears. A small body that seemed unwilling or perhaps unable to welcome the incredible release and cleansing which tears provided. At least in tears there was the promise of comfort. What promise did muted tears hold? Alex's silence was the unintentional hoarding of pain that he couldn't give a name. Its sufferer should never hoard pain. A valiant desire, perhaps, but maybe it was foolish to believe that there would be a natural evaporation of heartache when the victim suffers alone. Maybe the strength was always in gravitating towards a loving and caring cavalry to assist in handling the pain. But what would a child, particularly a child with Asperger's Syndrome as his constant companion, know of any of this? The shards of Alex's torment had sliced through Candace and Gary's hearts. Why couldn't they help the child that they both loved so much? And each of them suffered through the wounds of helplessness.  
  
And guilt.  
  
She was his mother, yet she couldn't do anything but hold her son tightly. The faint sound of his heart beat, complemented his limp form; it scared her, frightened her more than anything had ever done before. His sapphire eyes were so hollow during that fateful cab ride over to Columbia General Hospital. Those eyes had always been her blue print into his soul. Please Alex. Please come back to me. Please God. Please bring him back to me. She had silently prayed during that ride and during the initial time that they had spent in the hospital waiting room. Fortunately, her feelings of helplessness and guilt were weakened by her love for her child, by her determination, and by her faith that God would help Alex find his way back home.  
  
Gary had felt helpless, too. If Fate had a purpose in allowing him to become a part of this special child's life and had taught him how to listen with his heart for the whispers emanating from the little boy's soul, why was she inspired by such cruelty now by not give him the answers that he needed to help Alex?  
  
Fate wasn't cruel; she was watching and listening, too. And in the end, it was neither his mother nor his special friend that had penetrated Alex's catatonia. Instead, it was another child who had reached Alex. Such a paradox: Tomas and Alex were strangers. They shared no blood. But the little boys were brethren through their shared emotional turmoil. Asperger's Syndrome had initiated Alex and Tomas into a life-long fraternity.  
  
Yes, promises were presents. Beautiful brown eyes and a yellow toy dump truck with big black wheels joined an unexpected leap of faith as "surprise presents" given to Alex. And seemingly, it was Fate's unspoken promise of hope to Alex and Candace that Tomas had entered their lives.  
  
Gary glanced at Alex then Candace. Pure exhaustion had lay claim to her delicate features, but there was also a light of gratitude that illuminated her face. Apparently, Dr. Maranucci's conversation with Gary in the hallway had been a winning performance. While in his office, the benevolent physician had also assured the young mother that his report would not only emphasize his conclusion that the child neglect and abuse allegations were unfounded, but would also detail his concerns regarding Mrs. Peabody's unprofessional handling of the case. Now she could get on with her life and with raising Alex. However, even though she hadn't said it, Gary sensed that Candace felt that this victory represented only one battle in her war against Lyndon. Lyndon reeked of hatred. The destructive emotion flowed throughout Lyndon's body. It was his food and water; it nourished and fed him. And that made Lyndon even more dangerous. Who knew what the man had planned next for them.  
  
Gary sighed. At this moment, his conversation with Dr. Maranucci weighed heavily on his mind. Mom had always insisted that he was headstrong. Well, if Mom knew what he was planning, she'd probably add the word impulsive to her analysis of his character. But she wouldn't offer that word as a negative assessment. No, Mom would swell with pride. And her pride would be mingled with happiness. Mom would be very pleased. No doubt that she'd see his idea as the answer to one of her prayers. A second chance.  
  
But was he doing the right thing or making matters worse? Why couldn't The Paper help him with so important a query? In his gut, what he was about to do felt so right. Yet, there were also butterflies hovering possessively in his stomach like messengers of doom. If they could talk, they would probably tell him that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.  
  
Chapter Eighty-Two  
  
Candace had called his name. He heard her, but Gary didn't answer. Instead, he gazed deeply into her eyes. She was such a strong woman, but she was vulnerable, too. And she was very beautiful. Today, her vulnerability had mingled with her quiet strength enabling her to confront Mrs. Peabody with determination and dignity. Gary felt that these attributes had served to awaken her beauty. At this moment, he made himself a promise. He refused to wrestle with his feelings for her any longer. What he was about to do and what he was going to say to her might be impulsive, but it just felt so right. Caution was never a cure for loneliness. Caution didn't dull the pain of regret. He didn't want to wake up one morning, a bitter and lonely old man, who had a chance at happiness and had watched life pass him by because he had been too afraid to listen with his heart and seize that chance. Life was too short and too precious to share one's bed with so cold an emotion as regret.  
  
Sitting on the couch so closely next to her, he knew what he wanted to do, what his body was imploring him to do. Maybe she knew it too because in that instant, her vulnerability had returned like an uninvited apparition seeking shelter in some familiar and comfortable haven. But he saw something else in her eyes. He saw trust. He sensed that she wasn't afraid that he would hurt her in the way that Alan had.  
  
"Gary." She whispered.  
  
The air, tingly with desire, embraced her voice and carried it protectively on an invisible thread directly to his heart. And her voice in turn caressed and soothed his heart by telling him that he didn't need to be afraid anymore, either. Hopeful and perhaps knowingly, her eyes feasted on his. His heart pounded expectantly with the promise of fulfillment. He knew. He knew that she wanted this, too. Wanted it very badly.  
  
Yet, he briefly hesitated praying that his mind and body were in sync. They weren't. His mind was advocating caution telling him that he was moving too fast for both of them. His inner voice scolded him mercilessly.  
  
Hobson, you're an idiot! Have you lost your mind?! You know that you aren't ready for this!  
  
But his heart peeked out from the murky and troubling abyss of discontent, a shining beacon of encouragement. It was a formidable ally that advised Gary to ignore the inner voice.  
  
You're not a teenager nursing some silly schoolboy crush. You know how this works. You know what you're feeling. Okay, so it happened faster than you could have predicted. So what? You think that life proceeds according to your timetable? Are you willing to throw away the chance for something special because you think that you aren't ready? This may be your last chance at having the kind of life that you've always wanted. If you throw this away, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. His heart argued.  
  
His heart's arguments were persuasive. It was now or never.  
  
Her eyes danced excitedly with anticipation and with the silent invitation for him to kiss her. He gently cupped her face then kissed her tenderly on the lips. The kiss started out slowly, optimistic yet uncertain. That uncertainty made the kiss tentative at first as if his lips were questioningly exploring hers. Her lips, in turn, were blissfully accommodating.  
  
His kiss left both of them breathless.  
  
He saw the residue of tears glistening in her eyes after the kiss ended. He was momentarily apprehensive by the sight of her tears, of the unspoken heartache that he assumed that he had inspired, until she flashed him a reassuring smile. He gratefully returned her smile, his heart swelling with the belief that this kiss was a prelude to a wonderful future for them.  
  
The air seemed to sizzle, held hostage by the burning flame of hope and desire.  
  
"Gary." She said softly.  
  
"Yes." He whispered.  
  
"Gary, would you..."  
  
"Yes." He responded eagerly.  
  
"...wait here while I put Alex to bed?"  
  
"Howzat?" He said disoriented, confusion evident in his mud green eyes.  
  
Seeing the expression on Gary's face, Candace laughed. "I said wait here while I put Alex to bed. He needs to take a nap."  
  
Gary stared at the little boy sleeping in his mother's arms. Alex was still clutching the little yellow dump truck with the big black wheels. Gary remembered. Reality slapped Gary hard in the face like a cold, impatient wave. And thus was ended his daydream of desire.  
  
"Sure." Gary replied awkwardly. A moment later, Candace disappeared from the living room.  
  
The eerie silence enveloping the room, offering him the solitude to commune with his thoughts, was like the proverbial last minute dress rehearsal before the curtain went up on opening night. Maybe it was his conscience that he heard laughing at him, an intrusive and mocking echo against the silence for suddenly he didn't feel so comforted by the quiet or confident about his idea. Maybe his conscience was right all along. After all, there was more at stake here then just his future. Maybe he needed to...  
  
His internal dialogue was halted by the sound of Candace's voice signaling her reappearance in the room.  
  
"Alex didn't even move when I put him into his bed. I expect that he'll be out for awhile." She informed him as she sat down on the couch next to him. "Gary? Gary, what's wrong?" Candace asked alarmed when she saw the tortured expression on his face.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I mean, I hope that nothing is wrong. That nothing will be wrong." He rambled nervously.  
  
She looked at him puzzled. Gary swallowed hard. "Candace, I need to tell you..." He began, struggling.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I need to...I need to tell...um...I have to say...Candace, there are...there are some things that you...that you don't know about me. And I want to...no, I need to tell you about them. I know that what I have to say is going to sound strange, but you have to believe me because it's the truth. And it's something that you need to know before...before I ask you...before we talk about something very important."  
  
Chapter Eighty-Three  
  
With a surprise infusion of courage and determination and the silent teddy bear as his only companion, Alex proceeded cautiously through the myriad of tunnels in the cave towards the sliver of light that he saw shining up ahead. The light shyly illuminated the darkness like an unexpected ally providing a means of escape from the deliberate sounds of the approaching monsters. The little boy's heart was pounding as his ears trained on the cacophony of monster sounds; the snarling and hissing noises were unquestionably terrifying. The monsters were getting closer. Alex couldn't feel their hot breath or their tentacles of evil exploring his flesh, at least not yet. He had to keep moving. He had to get away.  
  
Alex willed himself not to cry this time. He felt comforted by the light. But where were Mommy and Gary? Why had they left him all alone to escape the monsters? Were they still mad at him because he was a bad little boy? Maybe they were with Daddy. Daddy left him because he was a bad little boy. But he promised Mommy and Gary that he'd be good. He would try really hard to be good. Maybe after he got away from the monsters, he could find Mommy and Gary and even Daddy. Maybe he could show them that he was being good, that he'd eat his lima beans, and that he'd clean his room. Right now, though, he wouldn't cry. No matter how much the tears begged to be free, he wouldn't let them. He wouldn't cry.  
  
The dirt floor blanketing the cave bore rocks and other rough objects that ripped into his bare feet. His feet hurt so much, but he couldn't stop, not even for a moment. Still, Alex could feel the tiny cuts on the bottom of both of his feet. A few drops of blood had burst through the wounds. The blood almost seemed bewildered that Alex refused to acknowledge its presence as the sticky substance mingled with the little boy's skin.  
  
Alex suppressed the gasps that he felt rising in the pit of his stomach as a response to the pain that he felt. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't .  
  
The sliver of light that once appeared closer had crept further away. And the monsters were laughing now perhaps sensing that they would capture Alex.  
  
Then he fell. He tried to move, to get up, but he couldn't. He wanted to fight, but he was too tired. Now he wanted to cry, but even the tears had abandoned him. So, instead he closed his eyes and braced his body for the inevitable.  
  
That was when he felt a touch. It was soft and reassuring. Alex opened his eyes and saw the beautiful and expressive brown eyes. Tomas smiled before reaching out his hand for Alex.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Candace saw it in his eyes. Torment. That was the thing about torment. Torment was impossible to disguise even when it tried desperately to conceal itself behind a gorgeous smile or in the most beautiful pair of mud green eyes that she had ever seen.  
  
Especially the eyes. His eyes had already betrayed him, revealing to her that whatever he was about to say wasn't going to be easy for him. His eyes looked heavy under the weight of revelation.  
  
"Gary, what is it?" Candace asked, her voice laced with concern.  
  
Gary nervously rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Candace, I want to tell you...I need to say." He took a deep breath.  
  
Okay, Hobson. You can do this. His heart encouraged.  
  
It's not too late to stop this, you know. The inner voice countered.  
  
She saw him struggling. Without thinking, she placed her hand on his thigh, her gesture meant to be comforting.  
  
Please don't do that. Gary silently begged her. The feel of her hand on this thigh had inspired an array of responses from his body. Those responses were making it even more difficult for him to concentrate on what he needed to say.  
  
Embarrassed, she quickly removed her hand. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." She apologized, a slight blush on her face.  
  
"No. No, it's fine. I mean, it's okay." He responded awkwardly.  
  
A brief, yet excruciating silence.  
  
"Candace, I know that you and I haven't known each other for very long." Gary began slowly. "But you and Alex mean a lot to me. I care about both of you very much. My life has been so...so strange in the last few weeks with trying to come to terms with my divorce and with..." Gary hesitated briefly to consider his words. "Did you ever wonder how I just happened to show up in the supermarket in time to save Alex?"  
  
"I just figured that we were lucky, that God was watching over Alex." She said.  
  
"My friend Marissa would agree with you. She's big on faith and in believing that God is looking out for us even when it doesn't seem that way."  
  
"And you don't believe that?"  
  
"I don't know. I mean, I want to and everything, but...but it's hard, you know, believing sometimes. Anyway, it wasn't a miracle or a coincidence that I showed up in time to save Alex."  
  
Candace stared at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "I don't understand."  
  
Gary swallowed hard. "I know that this is going to sound strange, but I need for you to listen to me and...and to believe me. Candace..."  
  
Chapter Eighty-Four  
  
The sliver of light had retreated meekly from the small opening of the cave. Darkness, cruel and uncertain, was left in its wake. Echoing in the distance were the snarling and hissing sounds of the monsters. How many of them there were he couldn't tell. But from their loud and hideous noises, he knew that they were getting closer. He had to keep moving. He needed to get away from them.  
  
But then Alex fell. The little boy tried to get up, but he couldn't. He was so tired. Now all he wanted to do was cry, but even the tears had abandoned him. So, instead Alex closed his eyes and braced his body for the inevitable attack from the monsters.  
  
That was when it happened; he felt a touch. It was soft and reassuring. Alex opened his eyes. Miraculously, light appeared to have defiantly fought its way back through the darkness. The light illuminated the stranger's face. Alex gazed into the child's brown eyes. The little boy smiled and then reached out his hand for Alex.  
  
Still clutching Mr. Bear, Alex hesitated briefly before using his free hand to accept the stranger's help. But was this child really a stranger? Sapphire eyes locked with the dark gems as Alex's brain struggled to remember the boy. Finally, Alex recalled seeing him earlier in another "cave". That cave wasn't as dark as this one, but it was also full of scary monsters. Mommy and Gary were with him in that other cave; he could see and hear them, but somehow he couldn't reach them. This little boy with brown eyes had arrived in that cave, too, and had given him a yellow dump truck with big black wheels. Alex tried to remember the boy's name, but his brain seemed to possessively guard this secret. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't remember.  
  
  
  
  
  
Tomas stared at Alex intently almost knowingly. Something had been triggered inside of Tomas. Asperger's Syndrome was also Tomas' silent shadow, a jealous friend that shut the window to all other friends. But somehow now the window had been cracked open and Tomas had allowed Alex inside.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Tomas." He whispered his name as he patted his chest with his free hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
The cave was cold, and yet the air seemed to sizzle. Trust had radiated through the darkness of the cave. It had burst through unexpectedly and was carried on an invisible thread from one little boy's heart to the other. And the horrific noises of the monsters that had flooded the cave and had found an audience in Alex's fear somehow grew faint when he took Tomas' hand. Alex wasn't alone. Not anymore. Tomas would help him. Tomas had said nothing else after uttering his name. It was only his offer of help that had bridged the abyss of silence between the boys. In their world, the world painted by the possessive and controlling brush of Asperger's Syndrome, words sometimes broke through a whirlwind of chaotic emotions. The world for an AS child was like trying to orchestrate a dance with classical and modern elements, but without having a trained individual able to choreograph the movements. There was danger of an overload inherent in too many stimuli happening at once. Meltdowns became the response, like the disoriented ballet of desperate and bewildered feelings seeking a reference point. Too loud. Too much. Need to stop the noises. Hysteria. Screams.  
  
Then calm.  
  
Tomas and Alex proceeded towards the opening of the cave. Could Tomas fly? Alex wondered. Was he afraid of the monsters, too? Alex couldn't tell. However, the moment they reached the outside of the cave, both boys saw it. They couldn't get away. It was...  
  
Mercifully, something had awakened Alex at that moment. Once awake, he realized that he was in his room, lying in his bed. Alex was holding the yellow dump truck with the big black wheels. His body was soaked with sweat. Quietly, Alex let go of the toy, slid out of his bed, and walked towards the door. In the hallway he could hear Gary talking to Mommy. However, instead of joining them in the living room, Alex continued to his mother's bedroom. He opened the door and went inside.  
  
Alex loved Mommy's room. Her bed was so big and so soft. And the monsters were never able to find him in Mommy's room. Maybe they were afraid to come into Mommy's room. As Alex proceeded towards the end of the bed, his foot touched an item on the floor. He bent over and picked up the object. For a few moments, his eyes fixated on what he held in his hand. Then almost reverently, he placed the item in his pants pocket and climbed onto the bed.  
  
His breathing was labored and his eyes were glazed with the remnants of unshed tears. But he was too tired to cry. Alex just wanted to sleep. That was all that he wanted to do right now.  
  
Chapter Eighty-Five  
  
  
  
In the end, he followed his conscience and he knew that he had made the right choice. It was the only decision that he could have made really, the only decision that wouldn't end up hurting both of them in the long run. While his heart had put up a valiant effort, his inner voice had proven the more worthier opponent; like two dueling gentlemen of yesteryear meeting at dawn for a battle of honor, there can be but one victor. Even as the early morning air sheds a sleepy tear on a grassy hilltop awaking it from a drunken stupor and with both men's jaws clenched in determination, even then, only one man would win. Both of them know it, but still, they duel. That's just the way it is.  
  
In Gary's case, his inner voice had won the struggle. He realized that neither one of them was ready to handle the possible implications of his revealing two well-guarded secrets- The Paper and his feelings for her.  
  
Ironically, it was his surprise run-in with Marcia at Columbia General Hospital that had helped him make this decision. It made him angry to admit this to himself, but Marcia still had control over him. When she had unexpectedly kissed him in the hospital, the residue from her lips was as potent as a serpent's sting in paralyzing his heart. What he couldn't understand was after the way she had treated him, he still felt something for her and it wasn't hatred. God help him! He almost wished that he could hate her; perhaps, hating her would make it easier for him on his journey towards closure. But Gary knew that he had to work out his unresolved feelings for his ex-wife and about the way that their marriage had ended. He recalled Candace mentioning the stages of divorce. Maybe he had been fooling himself believing that he had embarked upon the threshold of acceptance. Maybe that's why he hadn't been able to remove his wedding ring. The divorce might have severed his matrimonial bond, but it failed to give him closure. He needed to find that for himself. Until he did, he really had nothing to offer Candace. And he couldn't ask her, expect her, to take a chance on a guy who was wrestling with this kind of uncertainty. He was in emotional limbo and that was not something that he wanted to share with her.  
  
Then there was The Paper. For the past few weeks, he had been required to mortgage his time in the name of performing heroics that he felt ill equipped to undertake. Someone, something had altered his destiny in anointing him as a hero and in the process, he had been expected to change the destinies of others. He went to bed one night as an ordinary guy grappling with the realization of a failed marriage and woke up the next morning and found that he was suddenly a hero. His body hadn't changed in the process; no, he hadn't been endowed with superhuman attributes to assist him with this mission. Nor had he been given an instruction manual, a "how-to" bible to teach him all that he needed to know to handle his newly found responsibilities. All that arrived that fateful day was The Paper and the cat. That cat! Where had that cat come from? Whose cat was it? Why a cat? Why him? Why?  
  
So many unanswered questions seemingly committed to a never-ending waltz in his brain. And to make matters even more complicated, Gary wasn't sure what would happen once the dance ended. After serving a tour of duty as a hero, could he really go back to being just Gary Hobson, regular guy, again? Without a futuristic newspaper as his companion, would he be able to handle the sound of distant sirens wailing in the background, the telling cry of injury yet be powerless to help people? He never asked for any of this. A part of him wanted his life back, but there was another part that wasn't sure if he could really let go when the time came.  
  
Candace had spent the last few moments studying Gary intently. He had started to tell her something, something she sensed was important, but he had pulled back and suddenly became silent. He looked so tormented. She had read that much from his face and had seen it in his eyes. She wanted to help him with whatever it was that was bothering him. She would help him if only he would let her..  
  
"Gary, what is it?" She asked softly, but with a trace of concern in her voice.  
  
Oh Boy.  
  
He had started this whole thing; she was expecting him to say something. But he couldn't tell her the truth. Not just yet anyway.  
  
Providence seemed sympathetic to Gary's plight for at that moment Alex let out a tortured scream that shifted the scrutiny away from him. Instinctively, Candace jumped up from the couch. "I'm sorry Gary, I need to..."  
  
"No, go ahead. Alex needs you. I'll be here when you come back." He reassured her with a smile.  
  
Candace returned his smile before quickly disappearing from the room.  
  
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He closed his eyes as if trying to will his brain to think of something to tell Candace when she returned.  
  
"Meow."  
  
Gary opened his eyes to find Cat sitting on the floor in front of the couch. The feline wagged its tail deliberately.  
  
"How did you get in here?"  
  
"Meow."  
  
Gary removed The Paper from the back pocket of his jeans and began flipping through the pages. The color drained from his face and his mud green eyes widened with shock when they fixed on the headline on page five. How would he be able to handle this?  
  
"Meow."  
  
He looked up from The Paper and stared at Cat. "What are you trying to do to me?!" He said angrily. 


	2. Chapters 8687

Chapter Eighty-Six  
  
According to classical mythology, Sisyphus had angered Zeus and as punishment, he had been forced to push a large rock up a steep hill. With sweat glistening from his brow and muscles screaming from fatigue, the king toiled at his burden, the rock inching closer and closer towards its destination. However, just as victory appeared imminent, the defiant rock rolled back down. Sisyphus had to start over. And each time he assumed that his task neared completion did that rock have other intentions crashing once more to the ground below. Perhaps Fate had sealed her own covenant with Zeus. Maybe with a satisfied laugh followed by a powerful breath, Fate had exhaled summoning a strong wind that propelled the rock down the hill every time.  
  
But what god's wrath had a reluctant hero incurred that he'd have his own "rock" to keep crashing down upon him?  
  
Mud green eyes widened with shock. The color drained from his face. Gary's gaze focused on the headline on page five, the telling missive staring back at him mockingly.  
  
How would he be able to handle this?  
  
"Meow." Cat offered innocently.  
  
Gary looked at Cat. "What are you trying to do to me, huh?" He accused angrily.  
  
"Meow." Was Cat's response.  
  
A brief silence.  
  
"This wasn't here before." Gary mumbled to himself. "I did this." He realized belatedly.  
  
Since receiving his early edition these past few weeks, Gary had learned that his actions in performing saves sometimes had unexpected consequences; namely, new stories emerging in the place of former headlines. It was wonderful when a feature about a budget meeting changed the story of a person killed in a hit-and-run accident. But when the reverse occurred, when a mundane story about a library dedication disappeared and suddenly a fatal story like this one appeared, he knew that he was in trouble. Big trouble.  
  
Perhaps there were lessons that he was expected to learn with this heroic business. Perhaps his role in this whole "scheme" was about more than preventing disasters then moving on to the next one.  
  
Except he had no idea what these lessons were or whether or not he was even learning them.  
  
The Paper followed its own conscience. But it didn't have to live with the consequences of ill-fated decisions. He did.  
  
It didn't take long for Gary to realize that this new story, his dilemma, was connected to Candace and Alex and what happened earlier at the hospital. He was the domino that had triggered this deadly chain reaction. He should have been able to stop this. He should have just saved Alex in that supermarket and walked away. Instead, he had bonded with a special little boy and the child's special, and very beautiful, mother. His brain was telling him that he was just Candace and Alex's friend. Yet, his heart was imploring him for more, much more.  
  
But did he have the right to happiness at the expense of someone else's life?  
  
He needed to fix this, somehow. Maybe he didn't actually need to be there to save her life. Maybe he could call someone and offer an anonymous tip. But who could he call? Who would believe him? Maybe he could call her, warn her. No. No, that wouldn't work. She wouldn't believe him.  
  
Gary looked at his watch. He didn't have much time. And he didn't have a plan.  
  
With heart pounding, Gary jumped from the couch and rushed out the door. He was determined to defy the Paper's deadly prophecy, save her life, and change the future.  
  
Except he was about to change his own.  
  
Chapter Eighty-Seven  
  
Lyndon violently slammed down the phone onto the cradle. The phone shook from the power of the tremor, let out a short wail, and then fell silent.  
  
"Imbeciles! Worthless imbeciles!" Lyndon said angrily, the force of his words stinging the air. Alone in his office, the mogul surveyed his carefully constructed plan, a plan that was unraveling before his very eyes. Failure? No....no, that word was foreign to his vocabulary. He didn't amass a substantial fortune by allowing himself to even consider the possibility of failure.  
  
But the little voice in the back of his head tormented him by reminding him of his greatest failure, his son. Just as quickly, he dismissed that thought; he had nothing to do with Alan becoming a disgrace to the family name. That was Penelope's doing. She coddled Alan too much, made the boy weak and useless. And now because of that, he had to clean up behind Alan's messes. The boy had every opportunity in life. How many times had he told Alan to travel in the right circles, to stick with his own kind? Alan had his pick of women from the best families, the daughters of privilege and breeding. These girls knew what their roles were. They knew that they had an obligation to host charity functions and to support their husband's business aspirations, and most importantly, to produce a male heir to carry on the line. Alan had his every opportunity to choose a suitable woman to marry. Why did he have to choose *that* woman?  
  
If Alan wanted to sow his wild oats, have his fun with Candace, then fine. So long as he was discreet and didn't cause the family any embarrassment, Lyndon had no problem with that. But Alan didn't have to marry that girl. She was nothing but a greedy opportunist, a pathetic leech perfected contented to attach herself to their family without so much as trying to learn the right way of doing things. She hungered for the social standing and financial rewards but scoffed at the responsibility. Whenever Penelope included Candace in committee meetings for the Daughters of the American Revolution, the girl acted bored and disinterested. Still, despite his disdain for the girl, Lyndon tried to remember that once she gave birth to his grandson, he would be able to mold the child as his next heir. He was devastated when he learned that his grandson was "damaged" and he hated Candace even more because of that. Who knows what kind of lifestyle she had led before she met Alan? She probably used drugs and alcohol. That's why her son turned out the way he did. There was no way that little boy would ever amount to much. The smartest thing that Alan had ever done in his life was to divorce her. Yet, even after the divorce, Lyndon was willing to help her out financially, for the sake of the family name, but she turned down his offer. What she didn't expect was that he'd catch her carrying on with her lover, that little boy's real father. Did Candace really believe that he would be so stupid not to notice the uncanny resemblance after he saw Hobson and wouldn't be able to put the pieces together? No wonder why she wouldn't accept his generosity. She and Hobson had concocted a scheme to use the child thinking that they could get a bigger slice of the pie. Well, he was going to make certain that they both paid dearly for trying to make a fool out of him. Hobson was about to learn a lesson he'd never forget. And Candace, well, she would understand what it meant to really be alone.  
  
An evil and satisfied grin crossed Lyndon's face. He opened the file marked "Gary Hobson" then picked up the phone.  
  
"Yes. It's me." Lyndon said to the unidentified party on the other end as he fingered the file. "About that 'problem' we were discussing. No...no, I don't want you to wait. I want you to do it. Do it now."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Like a modern day Hermes without the winged shoes but with unchallenged agility, Gary quickly hurried towards Wacker. His heart was pounding and he could feel the sweat dripping from his body, sweat produced from acute fear, but he knew that he couldn't stop. He still didn't have a plan how to save her life. All he knew was that The Paper said that she would die if he didn't get there in time.  
  
Upon entering the building, Gary removed The Paper from the back pocket of his jeans. The deadly headline stared back at him: "Social Worker Found Brutally Beaten In Her Office." 


	3. Chapter 88

Chapter Eighty-Eight  
  
Abigail Peabody was an unhappy woman, but it wasn't always like  
  
that. There was a time when she was young and hopeful, saw the world  
  
through rosy-colored glasses, and was excited and enthusiastic about  
  
leaving her mark on the world. But that was a long time ago.  
  
As a child, an artist's soul burned within her. Painting was her  
  
passion, and she demonstrated a particular flair for portraits.  
  
Abigail didn't just "paint" her subjects; it seemed as if her  
  
frighteningly receptive eye exposed the essence of the people and her  
  
brush willingly captured that essence. Abigail especially adored  
  
creating portraits of children. Looking at the young Peabody's  
  
portraits, a novice or an appreciative connoisseur felt the emotions  
  
percolating underneath the surface of the studied subject. The  
  
canvas didn't lie.  
  
Paris had enchanted Abigail and she had hoped to study art in the  
  
romantic City of Lights. Her brain courted the notion of walking  
  
along the Seine or sipping coffee in one of those outdoor cafes as  
  
she soaked in the sights and sounds. But her father had other  
  
ideas. Rupert Peabody had viewed his daughter's talent as a  
  
childhood flight of fancy that he expected her to outgrow. He wanted  
  
financial stability for her and the life of an artist wasn't  
  
something that he equated with stability. So, when she was fifteen,  
  
Rupert very bluntly told his daughter that it was time to forget that  
  
artist "nonsense" and think about a real profession.  
  
Abigail was crushed; yet, she never challenged her father's vision of  
  
the kind of life that she should pursue. Her artistic talent was  
  
buried deep within inside her, a ghost forced to sleep. Wrestling  
  
between a career as a teacher or a social worker, Abigail eventually  
  
decided on social work. The gifted woman received an undergraduate  
  
degree in Social Work and later, a Master's Degree in Child  
  
Developmental Psychology. Upon graduation, she immediately secured a  
  
position with the Department of Social Services. Abigail saw her  
  
new role as a champion of the downtrodden, the most vulnerable  
  
members of society: children. Unfortunately, she quickly realized  
  
that unspeakable acts of emotional and physical abuse were committed  
  
upon children. The flame of childhood innocence was extinguished by  
  
these acts of violation. The first time Abigail had to remove a  
  
child from a home because the child's addict mother was allowing her  
  
alcoholic boyfriend to sexually abuse the seven-year-old girl,  
  
Abigail became physically ill. However, during court arguments on  
  
the emergency removal petition, the judge ruled in favor of the  
  
mother. The little girl was returned to her mother's custody four  
  
days later. Abigail had never forgotten the sad look in the child's  
  
eyes as she walked from the courtroom with her mother and the  
  
mother's boyfriend. The case file was closed; Abigail never learned  
  
what happened to that child. But the lost expression on the little  
  
girl's face haunted her dreams for years.  
  
There were numerous victories for the social worker over the many  
  
years that she toiled as a public servant. Yet, it was the failures  
  
that she had never forgotten.  
  
The now middle-aged woman sat at the desk in her office staring at  
  
the folder on Alexander Miller. That little boy was in trouble; she  
  
knew that. In Mrs. Peabody's mind, Alexander's life mirrored the  
  
life of that seven-year-old girl from so long ago. Gary Hobson, his  
  
mother's live in boyfriend, was physically abusing Alexander. But  
  
no one would listen to her. And now she had been severely  
  
reprimanded by her supervisor for her handling of the Miller case.  
  
Little did Abigail Peabody know, but the man who she had considered a  
  
monster was about to become her guardian angel. 


End file.
